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rent  15. 


UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


Donated  in  memory  of 

John  W.    Snvder 


His  Son  and  Daughter 


^  £f^  "^w-^  >|i^\  J^  4 


- 


» 


KANSAS   MISCELLANIES. 


BY 
NOBLE  L.  PRENTIS. 


TOPEKA: 

KANSAS    PUBLISHING    HOUSE. 

1889. 


TO 

MY   BEST  FRIEND, 

SAFEST   GUIDE,    LITERARY   COUNSELOR, 
AND  BUSINESS  ASSOCIATE, 


THIS  LITTLE  BOOK 
IS  AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS. 


BATTLE  CORNERS, i 

KANSAS  JOURNALISTS — MEN  OF  '57,     ...  80 

JIM  LANE, 104 

THE  HOUSE  OF  BOURBON,       ...              ...  117 

A  KANSAS  HAS-BEEN, i36 

THE  MENNONITES  AT  HOME, 147 

A  DAY  WITH  THE  MENNONITES, i55 

THE  WORLD  A  SCHOOL, 168 

BOOKS, !93 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  believed  that  the  contents  of  this  little  volume 
will  explain  its  title.  They  are  miscellaneous,  and  every- 
thing between  the  covers  has  some  reference  to  or  connec- 
tion with  Kansas,  and  Kansas  people. 

"  Battle  Corners  "  was  suggested  by  a  visit  to  the  battle- 
fields of  Prairie  Grove,  Pea  Ridge,  and  Wilson's  Creek. 
There  is  no  attempt  to  give  a  historical  account  of  those 
battles.  A  critical  narrative  of  one  of  those  combats  would 
fill  a  volume  like  this.  There  is  no  attempt  to  catalogue 
the  brave.  What  is  here  are  but  the  reflections  of  the 
writer ;  an  effort  to  describe  the  localities  as  they  are  now, 
with  the  hope  that  others  may  be  led  to  visit  them  ;  and 
the  recollections  of  three  old  soldiers,  given  after  the  lapse 
of  many  years,  and  without  aids  to  the  memory,  but,  it  is 
believed,  given  so  vividly  that  others  will  see  with  the 
mind's  eye. 

"The  World   a   School"    has  appeared   in  print   in  many 

(5) 


VI  PREFACE. 

forms,  and  was  included  in  the  volume  known  as  "A  Kan- 
san  Abroad."  It  appears  here  at  the  suggestion  of  many 
friends. 

For  the  rest,  it  may  be  said  that  they  consist  of  sketches 
which  appeared  originally  in  Kansas  newspapers,  and  of 
addresses  delivered  to  Kansas  audiences.  These  are  pre- 
sented, without  regard  to  lapse  of  time,  in  the  form  in 
which  they  received  the  honor  of  being  copied  in  Kansas 
newspapers,  and  the  kindly  mention  of  Kansas  people. 
They  are  selected  from  a  mass  of  writings,  the  labor  of 
nearly  twenty  years,  in  which  there  has  scarcely  been  a 
day  when  the  writer  has  not  said  some  word  for  Kansas, 
the  land  of  the  sunflower  and  the  breeze.  To  the  always- 
lenient  judgment  of  the  Kansas  public  they  are  again 
committed. 

TOPEKA,  February,  1889.  N.  L.  P. 


KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 


BATTLE  CORNERS. 


IT  was  in  the  closing  days  of  the  year  1888  that  the  writer, 
in  company  with  the  Commissioner,  visited  the  country 
which  will  be  spoken  of  in  these  pages  as  "Battle  Corners." 

In  the  school  atlases  in  vogue  in  the  early  '50's,  there  were 
patches  of  red  or  yellow  covering  the  southwest  corner  of 
the  State  of  Missouri,  the  northwest  quarter  of  the  State  of 
Arkansas,  the  southeast  quarter  of  what  had  recently  become 
the  Territory  of  Kansas,  and  the  northwest  quarter  of  what 
had  been  reduced  to  the  present  Indian  Territory.  In  the 
Missouri  quarter  there  was  one  dot  —  Springfield ;  in  the  Kan- 
sas corner  a  star  —  the  Government  military  post  of  Fort 
Scott;  in  the  fraction  of  Arkansas  a  dot  —  it  was  probably 
Fayetteville,  though  it  may  have  been  Fort  Smith ;  in  the 
Territory  the  solitary  mark  indicating  Fort  Gibson. 

Scattered  about  in  this  region  the  metes  and  bounds  of 
which  have  been  loosely  indicated,  were  given  in  irregular 
lines  the  geographer's  or  map-maker's  idea  of  the  Ozark 
mountains ;  an  elevated  region  rather  than  a  regular  chain. 


2  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

The  map-makers  left  this  country  thus  unmarked  and  void 
because  man  had  left  it  so;  and  ten  years  later  it  is  doubtful 
if  there  was  in  the  United  States  at  that  time  a  country,  nomi- 
nally under  the  operations  of  law  and  settlement  as  long  as 
the  States  of  Arkansas  and  Missouri  had  been,  more  solitary 
than  these  "corners,"  more  destitute  of  common  roads  and 
bridges;  while  as  for  railroads,  the  nearest  approach  as  late  as 
1860  was  far-away  Holla.  Yet,  suddenly,  as  one  may  say,  these 
wooded  hills  and  rugged  hollows,  these  rough  and  rocky  soli- 
tudes, the  banks  of  these  swift  streams  accustomed  to  no  sound 
save  their  own  dashings,  the  passes  in  these  unfrequented 
mountains,  the  scattered  fields  of  a  careless  agriculture,  the 
red  roads  that  clambered  up  and  down,  the  paths  that  threaded 
the  brush  and  brake,  the  little  prairies  that  stood  like  islands 
in  the  ocean  of  forest,  were  filled  with  armed  men.  Thousands 
of  miles  from  the  capitals  of  the  contending  governments; 
without  cities  to  besiege  or  defend;  without  great  rivers  to 
open  or  close,  or  hold  as  highways;  without  strategic  points 
of  value  to  either  force;  without  fertile  fields  or  rich  pastures 
—  the  supply -grounds  of  armies  —  to  be  guarded  or  fought 
for,  this  region,  the  obscure  corners  of  three  States  and  a 
Territory,  became  the  scene  of  war  —  long,  persistent,  bloody; 
marked  by  the  display  of  every  heroic  quality  that  can  dis- 
tinguish the  human  soul,  and  the  commission  of  every  fiendish 
crime  that  can  be  conceived  in  a  malignant  heart  and  executed 
by  a  bloody  and  unsparing  hand. 

The  forces  which  gathered  in  this  region  to  do  battle  in 
open  field  or  sudden  ambush,  made  up  the  strangest  mixture 
known  in  the  annals  of  warfare.  White  men,  red  foen  and 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  3 

black  men;  regular  soldiers  and  volunteers  ;  Kansas  borderers 
and  Texas  rangers ;  men  from  the  Canadian  frontier  and 
men  from  the  Mexican  boundary,  men  from  nearly  every 
country  in  Europe,  clad  in  every  garb,  armed  with  every 
weapon,  marched  and  camped  and  fought  and  died  in  the 
"  Battle  Corners."  With  such  combatants,  a  vast  number  of 
them  irregulars;  partisans  who  came  and  went;  robbers  who 
forsook  their  accustomed  vocation  of  theft  and  murder  to  be 
soldiers  and  patriots  on  occasion;  and  in  such  a  country,  des- 
titute of  railroads  and  almost  entirely  without  telegraph  lines; 
with  no  great  newspapers  within  a  long  and  weary  distance; 
with  no  regularly  organized  bureau  of  correspondence,  the 
result  in  the  shape  of  what  is  called  recorded  history  has 
been  meager  and  confused.  Enough  was  done  and  suffered 
in  a  country  where  every  old  tree  has  its  scar,  and  every  ford 
of  every  mountain  stream  had  its  fight,  to  furnish  many  a 
winter's  tale  and  grandame's  legend,  growing  doubtless  more 
fearful  with  each  passing  year  ;  but  of  preserved  and  printed 
history,  of  critical  analyses  of  campaigns,  of  military  memoirs 
with  maps  and  plans,  there  is  and  is  likely  to  be  very  little. 
This  does  not  diminish  but  rather  increases  the  enchantment 
which  time's  distance  lends  to  the  view  ;  and  it  may  be  that 
when  the  heavy  volumes  in  which  generals  on  both  sides  in 
the  civil  war  have  recorded  their  operations  or  excused  their 
blunders  in  other  fields,  are  for  the  most  part  unread  or  for- 
gotten, the  novelist  will  be  exploring  the  old  fields  and  resur- 
recting the  old  war  stories  lingering  in  the  woods  and 
mountains  and  prairies  of  Missouri  and  Arkansas  and  Kan- 


4  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

sas  ;  another  Scott,  the  magician  of  a  wilder  and  bloodier 
Border  than  Tweed  flows  through  or  Cheviot  looks  upon. 

Rising  above  the  level  of  the  hundreds  of  combats,  scouts, 
forays,  raids,  and  even  encounters  owning  the  name  and  style 
of  battles,  in  which  the  casualties  were  serious,  and,  for  the 
numbers  engaged,  enormous,  there  were  three  pitched  battles 
which  attracted  the  attention  of  the  whole  country,  and  which 
had  direct  and  important  results.  They  were  the  battles  of 
Wilson's  creek,  Missouri,  fought  August  10,  1861  ;  Pea  Ridge, 
Arkansas,  fought  March  6,  7  and  8,  1862,  and  Prairie  Grove, 
Arkansas,  fought  December  7,  1862.  In  the  first  and  last  ac- 
tions Kansas  troops  bore  a  prominent  part,  and  while  no 
Kansas  regiments  or  batteries  were  engaged  at  Pea  Ridge, 
the  locality  was  a  familiar  one  to  them,  and  many  of  the 
troops  engaged,  both  Union  and  Confederate,  were  known  to 
them.  In  this  attempt,  then,  to  blend  the  present  and  past  of 
"  Battle  Corners,"  the  three  old  fields  were  visited,  beginning 
with  Prairie  Grove. 

The  writer  was  impelled  to  visit  these  fields  by  a  general 
interest  growing  out  of  the  part  Kansas  had  played  in  the  old 
dramas  of  which  the  old  Shakesperian  stage  directions  would 
say,  "Scene,  A  wood;  drums  and  trumpets  without,"  but  he 
had  no  personal  recollections  to  indulge  in,  the  fortunes  of 
war  having  led  him  to  different  and  distant  fields;  but  with 
his  companion,  the  Commissioner,  it  was  a  return  to  once- 
familiar  scenes.  As  a  long-suffering  trooper  in  a  Kansas 
squadron,  he  had  ridden  on  his  faithful  steed,  in  truth,  on 
several  different  steeds,  all  over  the  triangle  of  which  Fort 


BATTLE   COENEES.  5 

Scott  and  Springfield  and  Van  Buren  may  be  called  the  points, 
many  a  time  and  oft,  by  day  and  by  night,  when  not  only  man 
but  horse  fell  asleep  through  overpowering  weariness,  moving 
along  in  dreams,  if  horses  may  dream.  "  Danger,  long  travel, 
want  and  woe,"  was  a  summary  of  a  cavalry  soldier's  cam- 
paigns in  "Battle  Corners,"  and  yet  mixed  up  with  this  par- 
ticular veteran's  recollections  of  "wounds  and  tales  of  sorrow 
done,"  were  other  recollections  of  army  days,  many  of  them 
clustering  round  a  panicky,  field  officer,  and  an  especially  vo- 
ciferous and  ungodly  bugler;  so  that  in  riding  along  through 
the  Arkansas  woods  he  was  fain  at  the  thoughts  that  within 
him  rose  to  burst  into  peals  of  laughter,  so  loud,  so  free,  so 
reverberant,  that  had  they  been  uttered  in  war-time  they 
would  have  aroused  that  mysterious,  elusive  and  vanishing 
bushwhacker's  camp,  in  search  of  which  so  many  thousand 
Union  cavalrymen  spent  a  large  portion  of  their  valuable 
time. 

Journeying  first  to  Fayetteville,  we  came  upon,  at  old 
Keatsville,  the  railroad  station  for  which  now  bears  the  rather 
New-Englandish  name  of  Washburn,  crossing  the  railroad 
track,  the  first  reminder  that  we  were  on  the  "  dark  and 
bloody  ground."  It  looked  like  a  shallow  ditch  with  a  rock 
bottom  and  low  sides  of  fiery  red  clay,  the  beginning  of  a 
ravine,  washed  and  to  be  washed  by  rain.  It  was  in  fact  — 
that  rock,  bleached  like  a  skull  —  part  of  the  skeleton  of  an 
ancient  thoroughfare;  it  was  the  old  "Wire  road."  The  "Wire 
road"  was  in  the  beginning  a  military  road  constructed  in 
the  earliest  days  from  Springfield,'  Missouri,  to  Fort  Smith. 
Along  it  was  built,  according  to  tradition,  the  first  telegraph 


6  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

line  west  of  the  Mississippi  river.  The  people  past  whose 
fields  it  ran  and  over  whose  lowly  roofs  it  sang,  were  not 
versed  in  the  science  of  electricity  or  its  language.  To  them 
the  aerial  pathway  of  thought's  messenger  was  but  a  wire, 
and  they  called  the  highway  it  followed  the  "  Wire  road."  In 
military  dispatches  and  reports  it  came  to  be  mentioned  hun- 
dreds of  times;  on  the  Union  side  generally  as  the  "Main"  or 
"Telegraph"  road,  while  by  the  Confederates  it  was  nearly 
always  spoken  of  by  its  "country,"  and  older  name,  the  "Wire 
road."  The  "wire"  was  maintained  after  a  fashion  to  the 
close  of  the  war,  and  "wire"  and  "road"  kept  up  their  com- 
panionship until  the  coming  of  the  railroad,  running,  too, 
from  Springfield  to  Fort  Smith,  drew  to  its  side  all  the  tele- 
graph lines,  when  the  road  itself  began  to  fall  into  disuse, 
being  dethroned  as  the  one  great  thoroughfare  of  the  country. 

It  exists  now,  as  one  may  say,  in  fragments,  as  it  lies  in 
the  way  men  may  be  going.  In  some  cases  it  leads,  as  of 
yore,  from  town  to  town;  in  other  places  it  has  become  a 
neighborhood  highway;  in  others  it  has  been  inclosed  in  the 
fenced  fields  and  made  private  property;  in  others  the  forest 
has  received  it  again  to  itself  as  it  was. 

It  was  by  the  "Wire  road"  that  both  armies  advanced  and 
retreated  time  and  again.  Down  by  the  "Wire  road"  Herron 
made  the  tremendous  march  to  the  aid  of  Blunt,  the  junction 
being  effected  on  the  field,  and  amid  the  thunder  of  the  guns 
of  Prairie  Grove;  and  to  gain  the  "Wire  road,"  Van  Dorn,  or 
rather  Price,  marched  past  the  flank  of  Curtis's  army  the  night 
before  the  opening  of  the  battle  of  Pea  Ridge.  The  three 
battle-fields  of  Wilson's  Creek,  Pea  Ridge  and  Prairie  Grove 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  7 

may  be  said  to  have  been  connected  by  it.  Let  no  one  suppose, 
however,  that  this  important  highway  was  any  modern  counter- 
part of  Caesar's  military  roads  in  Gaul,  or  elsewhere,  or  that 
in  its  construction  it  gave  evidence  that  the  army  of  the  United 
States  has  always  maintained  a  brilliant  engineer  corps,  with 
the  motto  "Essayons."  It  displayed  nowhere  any  trace  of  the 
invention  of  the  late  Mr.  McAdam;  it  was  a  very  natural  road, 
and  the  soldiers  whose  painful  duty  it  was  to  march  up  and 
down  it,  declared  that  not  a  tree  had  been  felled  in  making  it. 
Winding  along,  up  and  down,  guiltless  of  cut,  or  fill,  or  bridge  r 
mere  hard  and  beaten  path,  or  prolonged  dust-heap,  or  length- 
ened quagmire,  according  to  the  sun  or  the  rain,  the  shifting 
and  uncertain  elements,  stretched  the  "Wire  road,"  a  Via 
Dolorosa.  What  sufferings,  what  dangers,  what  fatigues,  what 
endings  of  all  these,  did  it  not  witness  ?  Men  marched  along 
it  as  if  driven  by  fate.  Often  it  was  obstructed,  as  if  it  had 
been  determined  to  close  it  forever,  and  as  often  was  it 
reopened  that  more  thousands  might  toil  along  its  rugged 
ways,  or  find  graves  beside  it.  The  "Wire  road  "must  now 
be  sought  to  be  found ;  the  railroad  does  not  regard  it,  run- 
ning as  it  does  on  lines  entirely  different.  The  glimpse  of 
recognition  we  caught  at  Keatsville  was  the  last  until  we  stood 
in  the  broad  highway  that  passes  by  the  front  of  the  Elkhorn 
Tavern. 

At  Fayetteville  we  were  in  the  midst  of  historic  associa- 
tions. The  nearest  point  of  the  field  of  Prairie  Grove  is 
twelve  miles  distant,  and  yet  in  the  first  reports  the  battle  was 
said  to  have  been  fought  "near  Fayetteville."  The  mention 
on  the  street  or  in  the  hotel  office  that  two  travelers  desired 


8  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES 

to  go  to  Prairie  Grove  merely  because  of  the  battle  that  had 
been  fought  there,  brought  around  them  old  soldiers  of  both 
armies,  who  "were  there,"  and  their  conversation  revealed  the 
dividing  line  made  by  the  war,  which  ran  between  neighbor- 
hood and  neighborhood,  and  house  and  house,  and  often  made 
its  mark  across  the  family  hearthstone.  In  the  great  war  this 
mountain  Arkansas  county  of  Washington  was  divided.  A 
full  regiment  of  Washington  county  men  fought  on  the  ridge 
at  Prairie  Grove  under  Hindman,  in  sight  of  their  fields  and 
homes;  while  a  disaster  which  befell  a  regiment  of  Washing- 
ton county  Federals,  the  First  Arkansas  cavalry,  was  the  open- 
ing event  of  the  battle  of  Prairie  Grove.  Fayetteville  seemed 
on  the  day  we  arrived  the  headquarters  of  Brooks's  Confed- 
erates and  Harrison's  Federals.  Both  parties  spoke  freely  of 
the  "trouble"  at  the  opening  of  the  Prairie  Grove  fight  —  the 
Confederates  declaring  that  the  "Mountain  Feds."  moving 
along  in  advance  of  Herron's  command  were  stampeded  by  a 
small  Confederate  force  and  most  ignominiously  fled,  tum- 
bling off  their  horses  and  "  jooking,"  or  dodging  through  the 
brush  ;  while  the  Federals  maintained  that,  finding  themselves 
in  the  midst  of  Shelby's  brigade  of  cavalry,  the  advance  of 
Hindman's  army,  and  greatly  outnumbered,  they  exercised 
that  discretion  which  has  long  been  confessed  the  better  part 
of  valor.  Manners  are  everything,  and  the  final  settlement  of 
the  question  depends  on  whether  the  burden  of  proof  is  to 
the  effect  that  the  First  Arkansas,  being  in  trouble,  did,  as  an 
officer  of  the  regiment  assured  us  at  Fayetteville,  merely  obey 
the  order  "By  fours  —  right  about — wheel,"  and  "withdraw 
rapidly  from  the  advanced  position  it  had  taken,"  or,  in  other 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  9 

words,  "effect  with  little  loss  a  withdrawal  to  another  line"  — 
or  whether  it  unanimously  and  spontaneously  ran  off.  When 
we  realize  that  Gen.  Albert  Pike  did  not  personally  retreat  at 
the  battle  of  Pea  Ridge,  but  merely,  as  he  expressed  it,  "left 
the  enemy  behind  by  rapid  riding,"  we  realize  the  niceties  of 
the  English  language  as  employed  in  the  description  of  mili- 
tary and  strategic  operations.  To  "withdraw"  may  be  gen- 
eralship, to  "retreat"  is  more  grievous,  yet  possible  without 
dishonor,  while  to  "run"  is  intolerable;  and  yet  a  movement 
tending  to  increase  the  interval  between  hostile  forces  has 
been  frequently  described  as  all  three. 

On  a  sunny  day  around  the  public  square  at  Fayetteville, 
Union  and  Confederate  Caesars  open  up  their  verbal  commen- 
taries. Old  soldiers  interested  in  the  investigation  of  military 
questions  growing  out  of  the  civil  war,  from  the  operations  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  those  of  the  Frontier,  can  hear 
them  enlarged  upon  by  critics  whose  critical  faculties  have 
been  sharpened  by  the  profuse  and  frequently  unpleasant 
smell  of  powder,  wafted  from  opposite  directions.  For  an 
exposition  of  affairs  in  which  the  First  Arkansas  cavalry  was 
interested,  they  are  referred  to  Captain  C.  B.  Harrison,  a  lead- 
ing business  man  of  Fayetteville,  and  to  Captain  Patton,  both 
of  that  regiment,  to  whom  we  were  made  indebted  for  interest- 
ing particulars  in  regard  to  the  defense  of  the  place  against 
Cabell,  and  other  operations. 

Fayetteville,  originally  the  political  and  commercial  capital 
of  northwest  Arkansas,  became  known  daring  the  war  to  thou- 
sands of  Northern  soldiers,  who,  sick  or  well,  in  peaceful  guise 
or  on  warlike  errands  intent,  had  occasion  to  visit  it.  It  was 


10  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

the  most  important  point  on  the  "Wire  road"  between 
Springfield  and  the  Arkansas  river.  Hospitals  were  estab- 
lished here  which  received  the  wounded  after  the  battle  of 
Prairie  Grove,  and  the  dead  of  both  armies  buried  on  the 
field  were  disinterred,  and  the  mouldering  relics  of  the  brave 
now  rest  within  the  precincts  of  Fayetteville ;  the  Confed- 
erates-in  a  rather  neglected  inclosure  on  the  shelf  of  a  high 
hill,  the  Union  dead  in  the  carefully  kept  Government  ceme- 
tery on  the  summit  of  a  gentler  slope,  a  "  green  hill  far  away." 
This  spot,  though  watched  and  tended  by  an  official  guard- 
ian, had  less  of  adornment  in  the  way  of  the  gardener's  art 
than  any  Government  cemetery  I  had  ever  seen,  though  of 
course  the  season  of  the  year,  December,  was  unfavorable  to 
its  display.  The  dead  lie  in  circles  widening  from  the  center 
like  ripples,  wave  after  wave  of  white  headstones,  ceasing  at 
the  boundaries  of  the  inclosure.  Many,  the  larger  number, 
were  marked  "Unknown;"  and  my  heart  rebelled,  as  it  had 
often  done  before,  at  the  thought  that  a  soldier  of  the  Union 
army  whose  name  as  a  soldier  was  written  scores  and  hun- 
dreds of  times  in  the  records  of  his  regiment,  from  the 
orderly  sergeant's  book  on  and  up,  should  slip  out  of  life,  as 
it  were,  to  be  lost,  to  have  inscribed  above  him  till  his  name  is 
called  again  at  the  Last  Day,  "  Unknown."  In  England  one 
may  see  on  the  walls  of  parish  churches,  mural  tablets  in- 
scribed with  the  names  of  English  soldiers  who  died  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world.  In  this  country  such  memorials 
scarcely  exist ;  but  should  they  not  ?  If  the  memory  of  the 
brave  dead,  laid  in  untimely  graves  for  their  dear  country's 
sake,  is  to  be  preserved,  it  certainly  is  not  to  be  done  by  the 


BATTLE   COSNEHS.  11 

erection  of  monuments  that  merely  say  that  their  names 
are  lost  and  forgotten.  Better  nothing  than  that  word 
"Unknown." 

Fayetteville  with  its  old  associations  recalled  by  many  ob- 
jects is  beautiful  for  situation.  It  rests  the  eye,  accustomed 
to  level  metropolises,  checker-board  emporiums,  and  "  future 
greats,"  open  to  the  wind  on  all  sides.  It  is  a  city  sur- 
rounded by  high-shouldered  hills,  called  mountains,  covered 
with  forests.  It  stands  itself  on  a  hill  the  top  of  which  has 
been  shaved  like  a  monk's  crown  to  make  room  for  the  public 
square  with  the  court  house  in  the  center.  On  another  hill, 
hidden  to  the  eyes  by  trees,  is  the  State  Agricultural  College; 
and  in  the  settlement  it  seems  that  the  pioneer  citizen,  who 
would  rear  his  house  where  from  his  door  he  could  have  a 
view  different  from  any  other  —  hills,  valleys,  woods,  a  bit  of 
separate  heaven  and  exclusive  earth  —  had  only  to  select  his 
hill,  for  no  one  might  see  what  he  saw,  unless  he  stood  where 
he  stood.  The  houses  in  such  towns,  especially  in  the  South, 
do  not  stand  up  in  straight  lines  to  be  counted.  There  is  a 
great  want  of  system  about  this  old  town  that  has  sat  down 
in  its  shirt-sleeves  in  these  Arkansas  mountains.  The  grades 
of  the  sidewalks  around  the  public  square  exhibit  a  great 
variety,  and  the  court  house  itself  would  blush  among  its 
locust  trees  if  it  were  designated  as  a  "temple  of  justice:" 
it  is  just  an  old  brick  "cote  house."  The  business  houses 
about  the  square  belong  to  the  "  since  the  war"  period,  and 
are  spacious  and  creditable.  There  is  plenty  of  old  Fayette- 
ville to  dream  over,  and  of  new  Fayetteville  to  inspire  hope. 
It  was  hospitable  in  December.  When  Spring  pauses  on  her 


12  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

leisurely  way,  pauses  in  these  valleys  and  among  these  moun- 
tains to  make  some  arrangements  for  "  peach  time,"  which 
never  fails  here,  heaven  and  earth  and  sympathetic  people 
must  be  charming. 

There  was  no  suggestion  of  "peach  time"  in  the  air  as 
we  rode  down  the  steep  rSd  hill  and  through  the  railroad  cul- 
vert at  the  big  fill.  It  was  a  sad,  sunless,  lead-colored  Decem- 
ber day,  that  sulked  and  muttered  of  rain,  but  failed  to  carry 
out  its  threat.  The  rain  had  been  falling  for  a  week,  or 
perhaps  it  was  weeks,  and  what  is  known  in  that  region  as 
the  road  was  a  picturesque  succession  of  mud-holes  partially 
filled  with  round  boulders  the  size  of  a  sixty-four-pound  shot. 
The  traveling  public  cannot  sufficiently  thank  Heaven  for 
Appomattox.  Had  the  Southern  Confederacy  been  estab- 
lished it  would  never  have  "worked  the  road." 

The  primitive  thoroughfare  wound  through  the  forest,  the 
dull  russet-colored  oaks  predominating,  covered  with  leaves  as 
was  the  ground  beneath  them.  To  the  right,  the  road,  now 
approaching,  now  turning  away,  kept  in  view  ranges  of 
straight-backed,  wood-covered  mountains,  brown  near  at  hand, 
fading  into  blue  ranges  to  the  southward — the  Boston  moun- 
tains. Shut  in  by  the  woods,  with  no  sound  to  listen  to  save 
our  own  voices  and  the  hoofs  of  the  horses,  "Quick"  and 
"  Dead,"  as  they  picked  their  way,  slipping  and  sliding  and 
floundering  through  the  mud  and  boulders,  there  was  little  to 
do  save  to  fix  our  minds  on  our  purpose  of  following  Herron's 
route  as  he  marched  from  Fayetteville  to  the  battle-field,  going 
through  a  certain  lane  where  his  advance  met  the  retreating 
cavalry  returning  from  the  interview  with  Hindman's  advance, 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  13 

and  crossing  Illinois  creek  where  he  crossed  it  on  the  morning 
of  the  famous  7th  of  December. 

But  roads  are  subject  to  changes  in  twenty-six  years,  and 
most  of  the  people  of  whom  we  made  inquiries  along  the 
way,  having  been  born  since  the  war,  indulged  in  rather  hazy 
recollections.  We  passed  Walnut  Grove  church,  a  wooden 
temple  in  the  forest,  a  country  tabernacle  of  the  sort  that 
William  Wirt  immortalized  long  ago  in  what  came  to  be  the 
reading-book  story  of  "The  Blind  Preacher."  Within  this  dis- 
tance of  Illinois  creek  we  should,  we  thought,  have  come  to  the 
lane.  Through  a  rift  in  the  forest  we  saw  over  the  trees  in 
the  misty  distance  a  white  house,  which  the  Commissioner  said 
was  on  the  battle-field;  but  we  went  on,  and  here  were  the 
rushing  waters  of  Illinois  creek,  which  all  the  rains  had  but 
given  a  grayish-blue  tinge,  but  found  we  had  crossed  a  mile 
out  of  the  way.  Working  along  a  fence-row,  we  came  out  to 
the  lowly  mansion  of  Mr.  Whit.  Taylor,  in  the  midst  of  a  low- 
lying  valley  filled  with  corn  —  and  here  was  the  stream,  here 
the  ford,  here  the  road  from  Fayetteville;  and  turning  about 
we  saw,  lying  against  the  sky,  the  long  forested  ridge  of 
Prairie  Grove,  as  Herron  and  his  soldiers  first  saw  it  when 
they  struggled  through  the  swift  icy  waters  of  Illinois  creek 
and  a  warning  flash  and  boom  from  the  height  told  them  that 
Hindman  was  waiting  for  them. 

It  was  approaching  the  gray  close  of  the  winter  day,  and 
the  air  was  damp  and  chill.  The  low-hung  clouds  that  had 
crept  all  day  to  the  southward  before  the  sluggish  north-wind 
seemed  to  rest  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge  which  stretched, 
almost  black,  in  their  shadow.  Around  were  the  sodden  corn- 


14  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

fields,  near  was  the  stream  talking  over  its  old  stories  to  its 
banks,  while  the  road  ran  up  to  the  ridge  and  was  lost  in  the 
forest.  It  was  a  dreary  time,  and  the  ridge  took  the  form  to 
the  mind's  eye  of  a  great  altar  of  sacrifice.  All  the  dreadful 
suffering  borne  there,  between  the  rising  of  one  day's  sun  and 
the  shining  of  another,  rested  upon  the  beholder's  soul.  The 
staring  eyes,  the  clenched  teeth,  the  mangled  limbs,  the  blood 
making  a  spreading  stain  on  the  leaves,  the  shrieking  and 
plunging  horses —  all  these  came  up  unrelieved  by  any  thought 
of  glory  or  victory,  even  as  that  sky  darkened  with  the  coming 
night  as  if  the  sun  were  dead. 

The  road,  which  runs  as  it  did  twenty-six  years  ago,  leads 
over  the  ridge  through  the  woods  and  drops  down  into  the 
village  of  Prairie  Grove,  which  has  grown  up  in  the  past  twelve 
years  around  the  Prairie  Grove  church,  which  served  as  the 
Confederate  hospital,  and  near  which  the  greater  number  of 
their  dead  were  buried.  The  old  church  yet  remains,  faded 
and  shabby  in  the  presence  of  two  or  three  new  churches. 
It  is  a  pretty  little  place,  with  probably  two  hundred  inhab- 
itants. It  is  a  yellow-pine  town,  all  of  wood,  save  the  two- 
story  brick  academy,  which  stands  in  the  woods  well  up  the 
ridge.  All  of  the  houses  have  great  stone  chimneys  outside 
their  gables,  and  few  are  so  poor  as  not  to  have  a  little  porch 
or  gallery  running  along  their  front,  overhung  with  vines,  still 
green  in  December.  Lights  were  shining  early  in  the  win- 
dows on  the  cloudy  evening,  children  lingering  on  their  way 
from  school  passed  by  in  groups,  the  little  girls  smilingly 
returning  the  salute  of  the  travelers.  A  bell,  clear  and  sweet, 
was  ringing  somewhere,  filling  the  dusk  with  its  melody.  So 


BATTLE   COENShS.  15 

we  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  house  of  entertainment.  If  it 
was  a  hotel  and  had  a  name  we  did  not  hear  it,  but  it  had  a 
landlord  whose  name  was  Crowell.  The  house  had  once  been 
built  as  a  double  house,  possibly  a  double  log  cabin,  but 
weather-boarded,  and  the  space  between  the  "houses,"  devoted 
in  the  country  to  dogs  and  saddles,  had  been  inclosed,  making 
a  room.  This  style  of  architecture  is  quite  common  in  Ar- 
kansas, and  many  a  substantial-looking  farmhouse  is  one  of 
these  "reformed"  log  cabins.  In  the  sitting-room  was  a  fire- 
place and  two  inviting  beds  with  blue  counterpanes.  The 
landlord  heaped  high  the  fire.  Ye  who  burn  anthracite  in  a 
machine,  a  mysterious  combination  of  flues  and  dampers, 
should  haye  seen  that  fire  of  nature  ;  wood  from  the  near 
forest  burning  on  the  free  and  open  hearth,  air  and  fire  and 
nothing  more,  like  the  fire,  kindled  from  heaven,  that  warmed 
the  first  man.  The  fire  rejoiced  in  its  own  brightness,  and 
crackled  and  sang  in  the  chimney,  and  lit  every  nook  of  the 
pine-ceiled  room,  and  would  not  let  the  black- browed  night 
even  look  in  at  the  windows.  There  were  but  three  guests  of 
the  vicinage,  two  seeming  to  be  commercial  travelers  in  a 
local  way,  and  the  other  an  old  bachelor  of  rapid  but  imper- 
fect speech,  who  told  a  good  many  times  over  about  the  size 
of  a  farm  he  owned  in  the  vicinity  of  Rhea's  Mill.  We  slept 
under  a  blue  counterpane  till  the  landlord  came  in  before  day- 
light and  roused  the  fire  to  new  exertions  with  a  turkey-wing 
and  went  out  again.  Lying  there  awake,  watching  the  rising 
fire,  it  was  natural  to  think  of  the  battle  that  raged  and  roared 
in  the  woods  behind  and  above  the  house;  but  there,  pinned 
to  the  wall,  was  a  map  of  the  United  States  of  America.  It 


1H  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

was,  it  is  true,  a  railroad  advertisement,  and  across  several 
States  was  printed  something  about  "through  Pullman 
sleepers;"  but  there  it  was,  before  as  after  the  fierce  battle 
—  the  map  of  the  United  States  from  Maine  to  Florida,  and 
around  the  lines  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  up  the  Pacific 
coast,  all  of  the  States,  all  in  one  country,  one  nation,  the 
United  States  of  America.  There  was  more  in  that  map  than 
the  railroad  advertisement,  more  than  the  story  about  the 
steel  rails  and  the  through  Pullmans,  a  reminder  that  a  nation 
had  been  saved  because  men  had  been  brave  enough  to  die  for 
it  at  Prairie  Grove,  and  on  a  hundred  fields  as  gory  —  oh,  how 
many,  many  men ! 

Morning  came,  chill,  cloudy  and  forbidding.  We  walked 
along  the  business,  what  may  be  called  the  postoffice  street,  in 
search  of  Confederate  "cotemporaries"  who  could  speak  of 
the  Prairie  Grove  battle  from  observation.  There  were  several 
of  them,  all  belonging  that  day  to  Pagan's  Arkansas  Brigade 
which  held  the  Confederate  right. 

They  thought  the  Confederate  guns,  over  which  the  savage 
fight  occurred  at  the  White  House,  belonged  to  Blocher's  Ar- 
kansas Battery.  They  spoke  of  the  spot  where  the  dead  men 
were  piled  thickest,  as  "the  place  where  the  horses  were 
killed,"  referring  to  an  incident  to  be  recalled  farther  on. 
All  were  free  to  speak,  without  bitterness,  as  of  any  past  ex- 
perience. After  we  had  gone  up  the  road,  one  ex-Confederate 
came  sauntering  up  to  say,  "I  reckon  if  Hindman  had  been 
let  alone  awhile,  he  wouldn't  have  left  many  of  us  for  you  fel- 
lows to  kill."  This  was  an  allusion  to  Hindman's  savagely 
severe  discipline.  The  local  sentiment  did  not  seem  to  credit 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  17 

Hindman  with  the  generalship  which  led  him  to  mask  his 
movement  from  Blunt  at  Cane  Hill,  and,  moving  toward  Fay- 
etteville,  attempting  to  crush  Herron  before  he  could  form 
a  junction  with  Blunt.  The  Prairie  Grove  village  opinion 
was,  that  Hindman  was  only  trying  to  pass  around  Blunt  and 
strike  Khea's  Mill,  where  there  were  three  hundred  wagons 
loaded  with  commissary  stores.  The  ex-Confederates  did  not 
believe  that  Hindman  knew  of  Herron's  approach  until  bis 
advance  struck  the  "Mountain  Feds."  as  before  related,  and 
pursued  them  beyond  Illinois  creek;  then,  they  reasoned,  he 
hastily  took  up  a  position  on  the  Prairie  Grove  ridge.  Ac- 
cording to  their  accounts,  he  had  not  been  long  in  position 
before  Herron's  artillery  and  infantry  commenced  crossing  the 
stream.  This,  indeed,  happened,  but  Hindman's  own  state- 
ment is,  that  he  was  aware  of  Herron's  advance  and  intended 
to  attack  him,  but  was  himself  attacked. 

The  village  sentiment  pointed  to  a  Dr.  Lee  as  the  best 
posted  man  in  the  community,  a  literary  person  who  corre- 
sponded with  the  newspapers,  but  he  had  come  into  the  coun- 
try since  the  battle  days.  By  general  consent  Mr.  Bill  Rogers, 
who  lived  on  the  ridge,  and  who  with  his  family  connections 
owned  a  large  portion  of  the  field,  they  thought  the  best  guide 
procurable,  and  Mr.  Rogers  was  found  later  in  the  morning, 
and  obligingly  mounted  his  mule  and  rode  over  the  field. 
We  went  first  to  the  white  house  on  the  right  of  the  Confed- 
erate line,  and  overlooking  the  ford  where  the  road  from 
Fayetteville  crosses.  From  near  this  house  the  Confederate 
artillery  opened  on  Herron's  troops  when  crossing,  and  were 
replied  to  first  by  Backhof's  Battery.  Here  the  Twentieth 


18  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Wisconsin  and  Nineteenth  Iowa  made  the  first  charge  of  the 
day,  carrying  the  ridge,  only  to  be  forced  back.  The  white 
house  of  to-day  is  a  neat  cottage  with  dormer  windows,  and 
is  occupied  by  a  family  named  Hall,  new-comers  in  the  coun- 
try. The  inclosure  about  the  house  seemed  recent.  To  the 
east,  or  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  is  a  young  orchard  taking 
the  place  of  the  old  orchard  which  grew  there  at  the  time  of 
the  battle,  and  where  Lieut.  Col.  McFarland,  of  the  Nineteenth 
Iowa,  whose  brother,  Judge  N.  C.  McFarland,  is  an  honored 
citizen  of  Topeka,  and  in  whose  memory  the  G.A.R.  Post  at 
Muscotah,  Kansas,  is  named,  was  killed.  To  the  southward, 
or  nearer  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  much  of  the  timber  has 
been  cut  away;  to  the  west  of  the  house  and  immediately 
around  it  there  seem  to  have  been  few  changes,  except  these 
made  by  the  hand  of  nature.  The  trees  have  grown,  a  change 
which  occurring  on  all  these  forested  battle-fields  alters  their 
appearance  more  than  anything  man  has  done;  but  there 
would  be  no  difficulty,  we  should  think,  in  a  veteran  of  the 
Twentieth  Wisconsin,  or  Nineteenth  Iowa,  or  Thirty-Seventh 
Illinois,  or  Twenty-sixth  Indiana,  from  finding  again  the  final 
scene  of 

THE   CAPTAIN'S   STOBY. 

"It  was  the  evening  of  the  3d  of  December,  the  weather 
being  mild  for  the  season  and  the  roads  good,  that  just  as  we 
came  off  drill  we  were  ordered  to  strike  tents  and  march  from 
our  camp  on  the  old  Wilson's  creek  battle-ground.  We 
marched  hurriedly,  making  no  stop  for  supper,  and  at  11 
o'clock  at  night  the  brigade  made  camp  on  Crane  creek. 
Long  before  daylight  we  were  on  the  road  again,  and  made  a 


BATTLE  CORNEES.  19 

long  day,  the  train  and  artillery  keeping  well  up,  and  camped 
shortly  after  dark ;  and  still  the  men  helc*  out  well.  The  next 
morning  very  early  found  the  column  still  pushing  on,  and 
just  after  the  sun  had  set  we  were  at  the  Elkhorn  Tavern. 
The  men  had  been  dropping  out  during  the  day,  and  at  night 
had  used  up  their  rations.  I  shot  a  hog  on  the  historic  field, 
and  the  Captain's  mess  and  the  boys'  mess  had  pork.  At  the 
Elkhorn  there  was  no  talk  of  any  enemy,  and  at  4  o'clock 
the  column  was  moving  again  in  the  fearful  dust. 

"The  men  began  to  fall  by  the  wayside  —  the  road  was 
lined  with  them;  we  climbed  hills  and  waded  creeks,  and 
at  3  o'clock  in  the  morning  bivouacked  in  the  streets  of 
Fayetteville;  we  had  marched  without  stopping,  the  men  eat- 
ing out  of  their  haversacks,  for  twenty-three  hours.  The 
blisters  covered  the  men's  feet,  but  they  wanted  to  fight. 
The  night  was  cold,  and  the  hoar-frost  lay  like  a  light  snow 
on  the  ground ;  the  men  built  fires  from  the  pickets  they 
broke  from  the  fences.  There  was  talk  everywhere  of  battle. 
In  an  hour  we  left  the  fires  and  started  over  a  bad  road  in 
the  direction  of  Prairie  Grove,  my  regiment  leading  the  col- 
umn. The  sun  rose  clear,  and  shortly  after,  we  heard  scat- 
tered musketry  firing  in  our  front,  and  groups  of  horsemen 
came  hurrying  back,  white-faced  and  terror-stricken,  throwing 
away  their  arms  and  accoutrements,  when  finally  a  lady  in  a 
black  riding-habit,  mounted  on  a  fine  black  horse,  came  gal- 
loping back  among  the  fugitives,  calling  out  as  she  passed  us, 
though  not  in  such  an  agony  of  fright  as  the  others,  '  Fall 
back,  men !  fall  back  for  your  lives,  for  all  is  lost ! '  and  she 
disappeared  in  the  crowd  that  fled  to  the  rear. 


20  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

"When  they  had  gone  the  road  was  apparently  clear  in 
front,  with  no  enemy  in  sight  or  hearing.  The  brigade  left 
the  road  and  formed  line  of  battle  in  some  fields,  and  the 
skirmishers  moved  out  along  the  whole  brigade  front  and 
disappeared  in  the  woods.  The  skirmishers  came  back ;  the 
column  re-formed  and  commenced  moving  along  the  road  at 
a  double-qnick.  We  came  to  a  stream  —  it  was  Illinois  creek, 
and  we  moved  along  the  bank  down  the  stream  and  formed 
in  line.  We  could  see  nothing,  but  the  enemy's  shell  and  shot 
began  exploding  over  our  heads  and  tearing  through  the  tree- 
tops.  We  moved  again  and  took  the  ford,  a  battery  dashing 
through  the  stream  ahead  of  us.  The  guns  went  up  on  the 
level  of  the  plateau ;  we  stopped  on  a  lower  bench,  a  few  feet 
nearer  the  river,  and  were  sheltered  by  a  sort  of  natural  ter- 
race. We  caught  sight  of  a  long  wooded  ridge  rising  between 
us  and  the  sky,  and  from  out  the  woods  on  the  crest  came 
flashes  of  fire  and  puffs  of  smoke.  The  Rebel  shells  shrieked 
and  burst  and  our  battery  roared  defiance,  and  our  men,  the 
half  of  the  regiment  that  had  marched  120  miles  in  a  little 
over  three  days,  sank  on  the  ground  and  slept  while  the  bat- 
teries had  it  out.  The  men's  clothes,  soaked  in  wading  the 
creek,  which  was  waist  deep,  froze  to  them,  but  still  they  slept 
as  if  they  would  never  wake,  while  the  shells  burst  over  their 
unheeding  heads. 

"The  batteries  concluded  their  dispute  for  a  time;  the  men 
were  wakened  and  stood  up  in  line,  and  soon  the  brigade  was 
facing  the  long  ridge,  and  then  moved  toward  it.  And  the  fire 
from  the  guns  on  the  crest,  and  a  musketry  fire,  seemed  to 
grow  thicker  and  louder  as  we  neared  it.  I  saw  a  white  house 


BATTLE   GOENEES.  21 

on  the  crest  and  to  our  right.  We  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
ridge,  the  slope  covered  with  a  tangle  of  vines  and  bushes  and 
trees.  Buried  in  this  for  a  few  moments,  we  were  sheltered  as 
if  we  had  gone  into  a  fortress.  It  was  quite  still.  We  came 
out  nearly  at  the  crest,  and  there  was  a  newly-built  rail  fence, 
and  there,  a  few  feet  off,  so  that  we  were  looking  into  their 
muzzles,  were  the  guns,  and  near  by  the  horses  standing 
quietly  attached  to  the  caissons.  But  two  or  three  men  were 
in  sight.  The  guns  which  had  been  belching  flame  and  smoke 
all  the  morning  stood  there  still  and  cold,  and  the  horses  as 
if  waiting  for  us.  We  could  have  taken  the  horses  away,  but 
some  officer  called  out  to  shoot  the  horses.  Men  and  officers 
called  out  in  reply:  'Save  the  horses.'  Again  the  senseless 
order  was  repeated,  and  this  time  obeyed.  The  beautiful 
horses  were  piled  in  a  bloody  heap,  and  the  men  swarmed 
over  and  around  the  guns,  and  a  great  cheer  went  up.  Two 
minutes  elapsed,  the  last  stragglers  were  working  their  way 
out  of  the  brush  and  up  to  the  crowd  about  the  guns,  when 
discipline  asserted  itself,  the  broken  mass  was  formed  in  line 
and  began  to  sweep  up  the  crest  and  over  it,  and  down  the 
farther  slope,  and  coming  to  another  rise,  we  saw  five  gray 
lines,  one  behind  the  other,  and  they  blazed,  one  after  the 
other,  down  in  our  faces. 

"The  impetus  of  the  charge  lasted  until  the  regiment 
reached  a  ravine  at  the  feet,  so  to  speak,  of  the  enemy. 
Here  we  stood  and  fired  up  the  slope,  and  a  hail  of  bullets 
answered,  smiting  our  line,  and  then  the  men  lay  down  and 
fired  as  they  had  been  taught  to  do. 

"The  line  in  the  ravine  began  to  thin  out;  wounded  men 


22  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

dragged  themselves  back  out  of  the  fire,  and  occasionally  an 
unhurt  man  arose  and  made  a  dash  for  the  rear.  There  were 
fifty  men  that  never  went  back.  The  Confederates  could 
have  taken  us  all  in ;  it  was  a  mercy  they  did  not  come. 
After  awhile  I  felt  a  pain  in  the  foot,  and  a  feeling  as  if  one 
leg  had  died.  Then  I  took  a  dead  man's  gun  for  a  crutch, 
and  limped  back ;  there  were  no  more  men  alive  and  un- 
wounded  in  the  ravine  by  that  time.  I  passed  the  battery 
we  had  taken.  The  guns  stood  as  we  had  left  them.  I  saw 
our  Colonel's  horse  stagger  riderless  down  the  slope  and 
fall  dead ;  the  Colonel  limped  after,  using  his  sabre  as  a  sup- 
port ;  he  was  covered  with  blood.  The  Major  was  forming 
the  men  as  they  came  back  from  the  ravine  down  the  slope 
below  the  guns,  but  our  fight  for  that  day  was  done.  Of  425 
men  who  went  up  to  the  guns,  50  had  been  killed  and  175  were 
torn  and  marked  and  maimed  for  all  their  days." 

Not  far  from  the  house  were  depressions  in  the  ground,  and 
piles  of  gravelly  and  barren  earth  covered  with  green  mould. 
These  mark  the  trenches  where  the  Union  dead  were  buried, 
and  from  whence  their  poor  bones  were  afterward  removed. 
There  were  other  trenches  in  the  orchard  now  inclosed.  The 
family  were  absent  and  a  flock  of  turkeys  seemed  in  charge  of 
the  premises.  All  this  ground  was  fought  over,  the  combat- 
ants being  generally  the  troops  of  Herron's  command  and  the 
Arkansans;  Frost's  Missourians,  who  in  the  original  Confed- 
erate plan  of  battle  were  placed  on  this  flank,  were  soon  sent 
to  the  Confederate  left. 

Leaving  the  Hall  house,  and  keeping  along  the  foot  of  the 


BATTLE   COBNEBS.  23 

ridge,  the  Fayetteville  road  is  reached  and  with  it  the  little 
weather-beaten  structure  known  at  the  time  of  the  battle,  and 
still,  as  the  "Rogers  house."  It  was  in  its  prime  in  the  war 
days.  Mr.  Rogers  said  that  Generals  Blunt  and  Hindman 
took  breakfast  together  here  on  the  morning  after  the  battle. 
The  present  occupant  of  the  premises  is  a  Mr.  Jackson,  an  im- 
migrant from  Texas.  A  "dry  well"  here  is  said  to  be  filled 
with  unexploded  shells  picked  up  on  the  field  and  buried  as 
a  matter  of  precaution.  To  the  west  of  this  road  and  house 
are  the  remains  of  an  old  orchard,  a  few  dead  and  shattered 
trunks  of  trees,  with  broken  and  mangled  limbs  scattered 
over  the  sward.  This  orchard,  Mr.  Rogers  stated,  the  season 
after  the  battle  bore  bountifully  in  spite  of  the  wounds  it 
received  during  the  action. 

The  Confederate  lines  along  here  were  held  by  Parsons' 
Missourians,  while  it  was  in  this  part  of  the  field  that  the 
Twentieth  Iowa  and  Weer's  brigade  of  Kansas  troops  charged 
and  charged  again. 

Beyond  the  orchard,  to  the  west,  the  slope  of  the  ridge,  still 
covered  with  heavy  oak  timber,  is  cut  up  with  high  rail  fences 
marking  the  line  of  the  Morton  place,  and  here  at  the  foot  of 
the  ridge  is  the  cluster  of  cabins,  sheds  and  outbuildings  called 
generally  the  "  Morton  house."  The  original  Morton  erected 
his  domicile  here  more  than  50  years  ago,  and  to  the  pioneer 
cabin  additions  have  been  made  on  all  sides  and  of  all  mate- 
rials. It  would  puzzle  anybody  to  know  which  is  the  front 
and  which  the  back  door  of  the  "Morton  house."  The  mis- 
tress of  the  mansion  now  is  Mrs.  Staples,  nee  Morton,  who  was 
a  young  woman  at  the  time  of  the  fight.  The  storm  of  battle, 


24  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

drifting  from  the  east  end  of  the  ridge  to  the  westward,  drove 
the  women  and  children  to  the  Morton  house,  where  they  took 
refuge  in  a  shallow  cellar  which  Mrs.  Staples  shows  to  visitors. 
The  Kansans  and  Missourians  "took  out"  their  ancient  ani- 
mosity around  the  house  and  among  the  outbuildings  and 
about  the  spring.  The  house  was  between  the  batteries  of  the 
contending  forces,  but  seems  to  have  suffered  little  injury. 
Mrs.  Staples  was  found  in  the  room  locally  called  the  "loom 
house,"  weaving,  while  a  handmaiden  woke  the  echoes  with  a 
buzzing  spinning-wheel.  The  room  presented  an  Arkansas 
interior;  a  fire-place  nearly  filled  one  end,  a  "spider"  stood 
on  the  hearth  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  a  powder-horn  hung  on 
the  wall.  Mrs.  S.  exhibited  a  part  of  the  loom  struck  by  a 
musket  ball  during  the  fight.  The  Fates  spun  that  day  and 
cut  short  the  thread  of  many  a  human  life.  She  spoke  of  the 
war  and  the  bloody  scenes  enacted  under  her  own  eyes  in  the 
same  impassive  way  that  marked  all  the  people  of  the  neigh- 
borhood in  speaking  of  the  war  ;  exhibiting  neither  exultation 
nor  depression  nor  resentment.  The  incident  most  vivid  in 
her  mind  was  her  coming  up  from  the  cellar  to  get  some  gar- 
ments to  cover  the  children,  who  were  suffering  from  cold. 
She  kept,  she  said,  between  a  couple  of  stairways  where  she 
thought  shot  less  likely  to  penetrate,  and  returned  to  the  cel- 
lar with  her  burden  in  safety. 

From  this  point,  facing  northward,  may  be  seen  the  valley 
skirting  the  Prairie  Grove  Ridge,  and  the  rising  grounds  and 
farms  and  woods  beyond.  The  valley  is  now,  as  it  was  on  the 
7th  of  December,  1862,  filled  with  cornfields.  On  the  farther 
ridge  but  one  house  looks  upon  the  field,  a  white  mansion,  the 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  25 

property  of  a  family  named  West,  in  former  years  the  wealthy 
family  of  the  neighborhood,  and  the  only  one  who  owned  any 
considerable  number  of  slaves.  Mr.  Rogers  said  that  this 
house  was  occupied  as  Gen.  Blunt's  headquarters,  for  which  it 
was  certainly  adapted,  overlooking  the  whole  field,  including 
the  contending  lines  of  both  armies  from  one  end  to  the  other. 

The  lines  of  battle  seemed  very  short,  the  Confederate  front 
being  embraced,  in  general  terms,  between  the  Hall  house  and 
the  Morton  house.  East  of  the  former  and  west  of  the  latter, 
the  battle  seemed  to  fray  out,  so  to  speak,  and  we  could  find 
no  tradition  or  landmarks.  Our  guide  undertook  to  point  out 
from  the  high  ground  the  positions  occupied  by  the  Union 
batteries,  but  this,  of  course,  could  be  done  only  in  a  very  gen- 
eral way  ;  the  great  cornfield  looks  everywhere  alike,  and  be- 
sides, the  batteries  frequently  shifted  their  positions. 

Since  the  visit  here  recorded,  to  the  field  of  Prairie  Grove, 
the  complete  story  of  the  battle  has  been  published  for  the  first 
time.  It  is  to  be  found  in  the  twenty-second  volume  of  the 
"  Official  Records  of  the  Union  and  Confederate  Armies,"  pub- 
lished by  the  Government  of  the  United  States.  Here  are  the 
reports  of  Generals  Blunt  and  Herron,.of  the  Union  army,  and 
of  thirty-two  other  Union  officers,  and  of  Generals  Hindman 
and  Marmaduke,  of  the  Confederate  army,  and  six  other  Con- 
federate officers.  These,  written  within  a  few  days  of  the  bat- 
tle, tell  its  story  in  such  words  of  fire  as  can  never  again  warm 
or  illumine.  Reading  these  accounts  it  is  very  easy  to  under- 
stand why  the  Union  line  was  no  longer.  Gen.  Herron 
brought  on  the  field  of  Prairie  Grove  but  six  infantry  regi- 
ments, worn  down  by  one  of  the  most  toilsome  marches  of 


26  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

the  war;  they  were  the  Nineteenth  Iowa,  the  Twentieth  Iowa, 
the  Thirty-seventh  Illinois,  the  Twenty-sixth  Indiana,  the 
Ninety-fourth  Illinois,  and  the  Twentieth  Wisconsin.  With 
these  were  four  batteries,  Murphy's  Missouri,  Boris'  Illinois, 
Backhof's  Missouri,  and  Foust's  Missouri ;  and  beside  these 
some  five  hundred  cavalry,  the  rest  having  been  sent  to  Blunt. 
It  was  with  this  force  that  Herron  joined  battle  with  Hind- 
man's  army,  believed  to  number  25,000  men.  General  Blunt 
reports  taking  on  the  field,  Weer's  Second  brigade  of  the  Fir^t 
Division  of  the  Army  of  the  Frontier,  the  Tenth  and  Thirteenth 
Kansas  infantry,  the  Third  Indian,  and  Tenney's  battery,  and 
Cloud's  Third  brigade,  the  First  Indian,  the  Second  Kansas 
cavalry,  the  Eleventh  Kansas  infantry,  Rabb's  Indiana  bat- 
tery, Hopkins's  Kansas  battery,  and  Stover's  two  howitzers. 
A  brigade  sounds  large,  but  Weer's  brigade  went  into  the  ac- 
tion with  902  men.  Col.  Weer  in  his  report  expresses  his  be- 
lief that  Blunt's  line  of  battle  did  not  contain  over  1,200  men. 
Six  Western  States  furnished  the  men  for  this  fight ;  they 
were  Kansas,  Iowa,  Illinois,  Indiana,  Wisconsin,  and  Missouri. 
They  fought  Arkansas,  Missouri,  and  Texas.  The  officers  re- 
ceiving special  mention  for  gallantry  and  efficiency,  in  Gen. 
Blunt's  report  to  Gen.  Curtis,  are  Col.  William  Weer,  Col.  T. 
M.  Bowen,  Major  H.  H.  Williams,  Capt.  S.  J.  Crawford,  Col. 
Thomas  Ewing,  Lieut.  Col.  Moonlight,  Major  P.  B.  Plumb, 
Capt.  John  H.  Rabb,  Capt.  Henry  Hopkins,  Lieut.  Marcus  D. 
Tenney,  and  Lieut.  E.  S.  Stover.  Kansas  has  remembered 
these  and  many  more  that  Gen.  Blunt  did  not  mention ;  but 
this  sketch  is  not  history,  or  an  attempt  to  discuss  the  justice 
of  its  awards,  but  the  explanation  why  so  limited  a  stage  was 


BATTLE   COENEES.  27 

found  sufficient  for  the  exhibition  of  the  drama,  the  great 
scenes  of  which  were  the  charges  of  the  Nineteenth  Iowa  and 
the  Twentieth  Wisconsin  and  the  Twenty-sixth  Indiana  and 
the  Thirty-seventh  Illinois  on  the  Confederate  batteries  about 
the  white  house;  the  fight  of  the  Kansans  for  the  ridge  beyond 
and  above  the  Morton  house;  what  may  be  called  the  charge  of 
Tenney's  battery,  that  checked  the  Confederate  advance;  the 
charge  of  the  Confederates  on  Rabb's  and  Hopkins's  batteries, 
supported  by  the  Eleventh  Kansas,  and  the  bloody  repulse; 
and  the  final  roaring  fire  of  musketry  and  artillery  that  closed 
the  day. 

The  "strategy"  of  Prairie  Grove  will  be  an  open  question 
while  the  veteran,  assisted  by  his  pipe,  continues  to  discuss 
the  art  of  war.  The  Commissioner  credited  that  good  soldier 
Col.  Weer  with  the  observation:  "We  blundered  in  and  we 
blundered  out."  Reduced  to  the  fewest  words  the  story  is, 
that  Hindman  wanted  a  battle  ;  that  Herron,  regardless  of 
odds,  position,  and  all  the  rules,  fought  his  enemy  as  soon 
as  he  found  him  ;  and  that  Blunt  "  marched  to  the  sound  of 
the  guns,"  with  the  instinct  of  combat  born  in  him,  and 
nursed  by  his  sailor  youth  amid  the  white-capped  waves  in 
the  black  night,  when  lightnings  burn  the  skies  and  stormy 
winds  do  blow. 

After  going  over  this  field,  as  we  have  said,  we  went  to  din- 
ner with  Mr.  Rogers,  our  guide,  where  the  talk  was  of  peaceful 
themes,  and  of  a  certain  progress  in  Battle  Corners  of  which 
we  may  speak  farther  on.  The  meal  ended,  we  were  presented 
with  certain  apples,  with  the  injunction  not  to  eat  them  by 
the  way  but  to  carry  them  to  our  Kansas  households  with 


28  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

the  information  that  they  were  "Shannon"  apples,  and  that 
they  grew  on  the  battle-field  of  Prairie  Grove.  Mr.  Rogers 
mounted  his  mule  again  and  rode  with  us  directly  across  the 
west  end  of  the  valley  to  the  high  ridge  beyond  on  which  the 
West  house  stands,  and  turning  about  we  looked  back,  and 
just  then  the  sullen  sky  relented  and  a  few  rays  of  sunshine 
fell  upon  the  valley  and  the  ridge,  "the  place  where  the  battle 
was  fought." 

The  Commissioner,  although  he  had  twice  visited  the  lo- 
cality since  the  war,  had  seemed  at  fault  in  our  journeyings 
about,  but  at  this  point  of  view  the  field  was,  as  it  were,  re- 
stored to  him,  and  again  he  saw  the  curtain  of  smoke  that  for 
an  hour  before  the  sun  set  on  that  7th  of  December  rose  from 
the  valley  to  the  sky,  and  heard  again  that  unbroken,  pulse- 
less roar,  like  the  voice  of  many  waters,  from  the  stricken 
field. 

The  fight  at  Prairie  Grove  was  girt  about  with  a  great  cloud 
of  witnesses.  While  that  light  battle-wave  rippled  along  the 
foot  of  the  embattled  ridge,  rushed  up  to  its  crest,  and  ebbed, 
stained  with  blood,  to  its  foot  again,  four  thousand  cavalry- 
men sat  on  their  horses,  held  back  from  the  fray.  What  one 
of  these  saw  is  told  in 

THE  COMMISSIONEE'S  STOBJ. 

"  The  regiment  to  which  I  belonged  was  a  sort  of  travelers' 
life  insurance  company.  It  did  business  in  several  States  and 
Territories,  from  the  headwaters  of  the  Platte  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Arkansas,  with  perfect  impunity,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  eighteen  hundred  members  whose  names  ap- 
peared on  its  muster-rolls  from  first  to  last,  were  ever  safe 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  29 

from  death  except  during  their  term  of  service  in  that  regi- 
ment. And  yet  I  think  braver  or  better  men  never  went 
to  war.  They  did  their  duty  well,  but  for  that  regiment, 
glory,  like  the  'milk  sickness,'  was  always  over  the  next  hill. 
In  the  drama  of  war  it  performed  the  culinary  act.  In  this 
way  on  the  long  zig-zag  route  down  from  Scott,  in  the  fall  of 
1862,  it  was  going  back  and  forth  to  that  kitchen  of  the 
army  while  the  other  boys  did  the  fighting. 

"But  after  Maysville  and  Cane  Hill  there  came  a  time  when 
we  were  ordered  to  the  front.  At  2  o'clock  on  the  morning 
of  December  7  we  were  set  in  motion  along  a  new  route,  under 
the  incubus  of  great  quantities  of  ammunition,  and  the  in- 
junction of  silence  in  ranks.  At  daylight  we  were  formed  in 
line  in  an  old  wheat-field  on  the  side  of  a  ridge,  and  halted. 
Other  regiments  took  position  on  our  right,  and  as  the  day 
dawned  we  could  see  a  line  of  battle  extending  to  the  crest  of 
the  ridge  with  a  battery  of  black  guns  in  the  distance,  in  front 
of  which  sat  an  officer  on  a  large  white  horse.  In  our  imme- 
diate front  lay  the  open  field  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  and 
beyond  this  a  dense  forest  of  oaks.  In  our  rear  was  a  steep 
hillside,  also  covered  with  woods,  through  which  the  road  we 
had  come  wound  along  from  the  valley  below. 

"Many  of  the  men  dismounted  and  built  fires  and  laid 
down  to  sleep.  They  had  been  under  arms  for  two  days  and 
nights.  Others  danced  a  hornpipe  to  the  music  of  the  com- 
pany whistler,  and  still  others  indulged  in  sparring  scraps 
which  ended  in  a  rough  and- tumble  on  the  stubble.  A  band 
far  to  the  right  played  Annie  Laurie  with  variations,  and  the 
men  cheered.  There  was  an  old  straw-stack  in  the  field,  and 


30  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

directly  it  was  covered  with  men  burrowing  into  it  to  get 
warm.  It  was  a  crisp  winter  morning;  the  hoar-frost  lay  like 
snow  on  the  ground  and  the  trees  were  hung  with  crystals. 
The  air  was  deathly  still,  and  the  smoke  of  the  fires  rose  in 
graceful  columns  to  the  tree-tops.  The  sun  came  up  out  of 
the  depths  of  the  forest  in  our  front,  and  kindled  the  trees 
into  a  golden  glow — forest  and  field  and  battle-line  were 
greeted  with  a  radiant  good  morning.  Occasional  shots  over 
the  hill  told  how  the  pickets  on  the  two  lines  were  feeling  of 
each  other,  and  this  and  the  belated  arrival  of  a  regiment  or 
battery,  now  and  then,  created  a  slight  diversion;  but  I  think 
that  sunrise  engrossed  all  hearts.  Gradually  the  men  began 
to  inquire  why  we  didn't  do  something,  and  a  restlessness  be- 
came apparent  along  the  line.  As  the  morning  grew  warmer 
they  relaxed  into  drowsiness  and  indifference,  and  the  whole 
line  fell  to  pieces  and  became  merely  a  prolonged  group 
of  idlers  lying  on  the  ground.  The  sun  had  cleared  the  tree- 
tops  about  an  hour  or  so,  when  Gen.  Blunt  and  his  staff  rode 
to  the  front  of  our  regiment  and  began  chatting  with  the 
Colonel. 

"The  party  happened  to  be  directly  in  front  of  our  own 
company,  and  we  could  hear  what  was  said.  Blunt  thought 
he  had  taken  an  admirable  position,  but  the  Colonel  thought 
it  could  be  improved  by  advancing  the  right,  so  as  to  put 
the  men's  backs  to  the  sun.  Blunt  said  this  would  be  done 
as  soon  as  the  fight  was  on,  and  then  they  both  agreed,  and 
repeated  it  several  times,  in  a  reassuring  way,  that  we  would 
'  pound  hell  out  of  'em  this  time.' 

"An  orderly  rode  up  and  presented  a  bottle  of  liquor  'with 


BATTLE   COBNEKS.  31 

the  compliments  of  Gen.  Salomon.'  Blunt  stuck  it  in  his  sad- 
dle-pocket and  dismounted  to  tighten  his  saddle-girth.  'Oh, 
by  the  way,'  said  he,  'perhaps  you  would  like  to  inaugurate 
this  battle  by  taking  a  drink  of  whisky,  Colonel  ? '  When  the 
Colonel  declined — which  he  actually  did — Blunt  remarked, 
'Yes,  I  think  we've  more  important  business  on  hand  just 
now.' 

"Still  nothing  was  being  done,  except  that  the  officers 
drove  the  men  into  ranks  again  and  again,  and  dressed  the 
line,  and  repeated  the  injunction  to  'remember  your  num- 
bers,' and  then  faced  to  the  front  and  waited.  What  did  it 
all  mean?  It  was  eleven  o'clock;  the  delay  was  ominous. 
Even  Blunt  was  becoming  nervous,  and  stroked  the  mane  of 
his  pawing  steed  in  an  absent-minded  sort  of  way.  Just  then 
there  was  the  faint  boom  of  a  gun  far  off  to  the  northeast, 
and  Blunt  exclaimed:  'What  was  that?'  Before  the  Colonel 
could  answer  there  was  another,  and  another,  and  Blunt 
blurted  out  in  a  disgusted  sort  of  way,  as  though  somebody 
had  blundered :  '  My  God,  they're  in  our  rear  I ' 

Instantly,  drums  and  bugles  sounded,  and  that  long,  strag- 
gling line  became  as  straight  and  as  inflexible  as  a  bar  of 
steel,  and  then,  forming  column,  marched  to  the  rear  and 
rushed  pell-mell  down  the  hill,  up  which  in  stealth  and  dark- 
ness, it  had  crept  but  a  few  hours  before. 

"In  a  few  moments  there  was  inextricable  confusion;  in- 
fantry filled  the  road  in  spite  of  all  command  to  the  contrary, 
cavalry  rushed  in,  knocking  them  right  and  left  in  a  frightful 
manner,  and  the  artillery  in  turn  overrode  both  and  beat  its 
way  through.  There  wa?  a  tumult  of  voices,  in  which  oaths 


32  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

and  execrations  predominated,  but  no  attempt  at  military 
order  in  the  horde  of  armed  men  who  swarmed  through  the 
woods  down  that  mountain-side. 

"The  first  I  remember  that  sounded  natural,  was  the  fa- 
miliar voice  of  Blunt  shouting  to  somebody,  'Tell  the  

fool  to  turn  to  the  right  and  come  on.'  When  we 

heard  the  old  man  the  boys  raised  a  yell  and  felt  safe.  The 
profanity  sounded  sublime.  There  was  after  all,  one  man  who 
knew  what  he  was  about,  and  he  was  the  commanding  general. 
I  think  this  must  have  been  two  miles  from  our  position  at 
Cane  Hill,  and  here  we  'turned  to  the  right,'  and  soon  struck 
a  prairie.  The  black  guns  were  already  a  quarter  ahead,  the 
horses  lying  close  to  the  earth,  and  flying  like  the  wind;  while 
the  scouts,  Jack  Harvey,  Jeff.  Clogston,  Ed.  Monroe  and  Andy 
Hammond,  were  leading  the  way.  Another  battery  burst  out 
of  the  woods  and  ran  alongside  of  our  regiment  —  for  we  fell 
into  column  the  moment  we  reached  the  prairie  —  Blunt  and 
his  staff  being  between  us.  Every  horse  had  a  rider  who  was 
lashing  at  every  leap,  and  the  gunners  were  lying  flat  on  the 
guns  and  caissons  and  holding  on  for  precious  life  as  the 
wheels  bounded  from  hummocks  and  boulders  that  lay  in  the 
way. 

"Blunt's  horse  outwinded  them  all,  and  presently  that 
black  steed  and  its  restless  rider  had  left  batteries,  squadrons 
and  staff  behind,  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the 
firing. 

"The  prairie  was  now  alive  with  men,  rushing  in  four  or 
five  parallel  columns  toward  this  wooded  hill  where  a  cloud  of 
smoke  hung  and  we  heard  the  sound  of  battle.  Incredible  as 


BATTLE   CORNER S.  33 

it  may  seem,  the  infantry  kept  well  up  with  the  cavalry.  I 
remember  one  regiment  on  the  right,  which  I  took  to  be  the 
Eleventh  Kansas,  that  passed  us  almost  the  moment  we 
stopped.  They  were  leaning  to  the  front  as  though  a  great 
wind  was  sweeping  them  down,  and  their  trail  was  strewn 
with  blankets  and  overcoats  they  had  thrown  away.  'Coffee 
Pot,'  of  our  company,  remarked  that  they  were  'taking  a 
splurge  towards  the  New  Jerusalem.'  In  a  few  minutes  they 
were  under  fire.  Other  regiments  went  by  in  much  the  same 
way,  and  soon  passed  through  a  thin  curtain  of  woods  in  our 
front  and  engaged  the  enemy  ;  but  the  cavalry  stayed  out. 
Four  regiments  and  several  battalions,  as  they  came  up,  were 
formed  in  line  of  battle  as  a  reserve  force,  and  sat  on  their 
horses  while  the  battle  raged.  I  think  ours  was  the  only 
Kansas  regiment  on  the  field  that  was  not  engaged.  A  host 
of  Kansas  men  whom  we  saw  pass  through  that  curtain  of 
woods  had  before  sunset  made  their  names  immortal. 

"In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two,  when  it  became  evident 
we  would  not  be  ordered  in,  one  of  our  men  who  was  always 
supposed  to  be  well  reconciled  to  peace,  burst  into  tears  and 

sobbed  out,  'Just  our  luck;  there  is  no  glory  for  us.' 

On  a  later  occasion,  when  the  regiment  was  preparing  to  fight 
dismounted,  this  same  man  gave  a  comrade  five  dollars  for 
the  privilege  of  holding  horses  in  the  cover  of  a  ravine  in 
the  rear ! 

"The  firing  was  heavy  all  the  afternoon,  from  the  time 
Blunt  reached  the  field  until  after  dark,  except  for  occasional 
intervals  when  the  forces  were  changing  position,  after  which 

it  would  resume  harder  than  ever.     Once  this  hill  seemed  to 
3 


34  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

lift,  and  the  sound  was  like  the  explosion  of  a  mine.  Several 
times  there  was  a  tearing  sound,  like  the  ripping  of  strong 
cloth,  but  about  half  an  hour  before  sunset  there  was  a  steady 
roar  like  a  waterfall,  or  train  of  cars,  that  lasted  until  dark. 

"  After  this  the  firing  gradually  grew  less,  until  there  were 
only  a  few  fiery  arches  in  the  gathering  darkness,  and  then 
these  ceased  and  the  silence  was  painful. 

"The  next  day  we  went  to  the  field  and  saw  the  burial  de- 
tails putting  the  dead  in  trenches.  The  piles  of  dead  where 
the  battery  was  fought  over,  near  the  Hall  house,  were  fright- 
ful. The  ground  was  muddy  with  blood.  Gen.  Steen's  body 
was  dressed  for  burial  in  a  linen  duster  and  laid  in  a  rail  pen. 
Two  or  three  crying  women  were  moving  about  among  the 
throngs  of  men,  but  did  not  seem  to  be  looking  for  anyone 
in  particular.  Our  Lawrence  boys  discovered  in  the  person 
of  a  dead  rebel  near  the  Rogers  house,  a  former  desperado  of 
Douglas  county,  whose  sudden  disappearance  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  war  had  never  been  explained  before. 

"  Down  on  the  slope,  between  the  orchard  and  the  spring, 
Hindman  massed  his  men  and  sent  them  again  and  again 
to  take  Blnnt's  batteries,  but  they  never  passed  a  certain 
point,  and  on  that  fatal  line  from  which  they  fell  back,  every 
ebb  of  the  human  tide  left  its  ghastly  wrecks.  One  could 
have  walked  for  a  long  distance  on  dead  bodies.  The 
slaughter  was  terrific.  What  made  the  sight  peculiarly  dis- 
tressing was  the  discovery  that  very  many  of  the  dead  were 
conscripts,  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  Union  men.  They 
had  bitten  off  the  bullets  and  fired  blank  cartridges  at  Blunt's 
forces.  There  was  the  proof  in  the  hundreds  of  bullets  lying 


BATTLE  COBNEB8.  35 

at  their  feet.  It  was  a  hard  fate  to  be  driven  thus  against 
those  batteries,  but  even  in  that  awful  moment  they  refused 
to  fire  on  the  old  flag.  They  also  perpetrated  a  ghastly  joke 
on  Hindman. 

"Almost  every  commissioned  officer  from  Kansas  who 
fought  at  Prairie  Grove  became  prominent  in  civil  life,  and  a 
large  number  have  stamped  their  names  indelibly  on  the  his- 
tory of  the  State.  Plumb,  Ross,  Harvey  and  Bowen  have  all 
been  United  States  Senators,  and  the  former  has  just  been 
elected  unanimously  for  a  third  term.  Ross  is  Governor  of 
New  Mexico;  Moonlight  of  Wyoming.  Root  became  Minister 
to  Chili.  Harvey  and  Crawford  became  Governors  of  the 
State,  and  Stover  Lieutenant-Governor.  Hopkins  made  our 
penitentiary  the  model  penal  institution  of  this  country,  and 
was  Railroad  Commissioner  when  he  died.  Ewing,  who  had 
been  Chief  Justice  and  who  might  have  been  United  States 
Senator  if  he  had  remained  in  Kansas,  went  to  Ohio  and  to 
Congress.  Alfred  Gray  made  the  State  Board  of  Agriculture. 
H.  H.  Williams  and  Nate  Adams  became  State-House  Commis- 
sioners. Sergeant  Booth  is  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives and  Department  Commander  G.  A.  R.  Jeff. 
Clogston  is  now  Judge  Clogston,  Supreme  Court  Commis- 
sioner; Andy  Hammond  is  a  banker  in  New  York  city.  Hayes 
became  State  Treasurer.  McAfee  was  Governor  Crawford's 
private  secretary,  and  afterward  Adjutant-General.  Perry 
Hutchinson,  John  Schilling,  Cy.  Leland,  E.  C.  Manning,  Ed. 
M.  Hewins,  John  K.  Rankin,  Dan.  Home,  W.  B.  Stone,  Oliver 
Barber  and  others  have  been  Presidential  Electors  or  mem- 
bers of  the  Legislature  again  and  again.  Bassett  and  Nate 


36  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Price  became  district  judges.  Cloud  has  been  a  Federal  of- 
ficer much  of  the  time  since,  and  has  always  been  prominent 
in  politics.  Martin  Anderson  was  State  Treasurer.  J.  K. 
Hudson,  who,  when  a  beardless  boy,  was  chief  of  Weer's  staff, 
and  who  was  under  fire  for  six  hours,  has  been  under  fire  in 
Kansas  ever  since,  and  is  yet  unscathed.  Veale  has  been 
in  the  Legislature  whenever  he  wanted  to  be,  since.  Weer,  a 
splendid  soldier  and  a  man  of  exceptional  brain-power,  shared 
the  glory  of  the  day  equally  with  Blunt.  The  name  of  Rus- 
sell, a  perfect  soldier  who  fell  here,'  has  been  given  to  one  of 
our  counties.  Cloud  county  was  named  for  the  colonel  of  the 
gallant  Second  Kansas,  which  fought  here.  Private  Sam 
McFadden,  who  was  brevetted  captain  for  gallantry  on  this 
field,  has  been  a  part  of  the  State  government  ever  since;  first 
as  chief  clerk  in  the  Adjutant  General's  office,  then  as  chief 
clerk  in  the  Treasurer's  office,  and  for  fifteen  years  past  as 
chief  clerk  in  the  Auditor's  office,  and  is  now  Assistant  Auditor 
of  State.  These  names  prove  that  the  7th  of  December,  1862, 
was  a  great  day  for  Kansas  and  for  Kansas  men." 

Our  guide  took  his  leave  and  returned  across  the  valley  to 
his  home  and  we  rode  back  to  Fayetteville  by  a  better  road 
for  the  most  part  than  we  had  come,  turning  aside  before 
we  entered  the  town  to  visit  the  Silent  City, 

"  Where  the  houses  are  all  alike,  you  know, 
All  alike,  in  a  row." 

The  steel-blue  sky  seemed  to  form  a  steeper  and  higher  arch 
to  clear  the  mountain-tops  as  in  the  early  morning,  between 
the  moonlight  and  the  dawn,  we  left  Fayetteville  by  the 
"Frisco"  train,  bound  northward. 


BATTLE  COENEE8.  37 

Visitors  to  the  battle-field  of  Pea  Ridge  have  a  choice  of 
several  routes.  They  can  reach  Bentonville  by  the  spur  rail- 
road which  connects  with  the  main  line  at  Rogers,  and  drive 
fourteen  miles,  thus  going  over  the  line  of  Sigel's  march  from 
Cooper's  farm,  and  seeing  the  ground  of  his  operations  on 
the  6th  of  March,  which  are  included  in  the  battle  of  Pea 
Ridge.  Or  they  can  reach  the  field  in  nine  miles  from  Rogers  ; 
but  to  those  who  propose  to  reach  the  ground  by  the  same 
methods  employed  by  those  who  made  it  famous  in  March, 
1862,  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  the  best  way  is  to  leave  the 
train  at  Garfield  station,  which  is  but  a  little  over  two  miles 
from  the  Elkhorn  Tavern.  Garfield  is  the  successor  of  what 
was  a  "tie  station,"  called  Blansett's,  and  its  very  name  is  an 
evidence  of  certain  changes  that  are  occurring  in  "Battle 
Corners."  There  is  now  the  beginning  of  a  little  town  in  the 
gravelly  hills ;  a  place  where  a  meal  may  be  procured  by 
visitors  not  too  fastidious  to  be  spoken  of  as  "You  fellers" 
by  the  young  woman  who  acts  as  assistant  landlady.  Horses 
and  conveyances  may  also  be  procured  in  the  neighborhood. 

It  was  at  Garfield  that  we  arrived  in  an  hour's  run  from 
Fayetteville,  and  just  as  the  round,  white  moon  gave  way  to  a 
sun  as  round,  but  of  red  and  fiery  brightness.  It  was  decided 
to  walk  over  to  the  field  and  take  the  chances  of  securing 
horses  at  the  Tavern  to  make  a  further  survey. 

The  road  ran  all  the  way  through  the  oak  woods,  and 
seemed  to  lie  on  the  summit  of  a  high  plateau.  The  frosty 
air,  the  rising  sun,  and  some  old  fields,  by  the  way,  brought 
to  the  Commissioner's  mind  the  scene  on  the  morning  of 
Prairie  Grove,  when  he  saw  the  soldiers  crawling  out  of  the 


38  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

straw-stacks,  the  black  guns  of  the  battery  waiting  at  the  edge 
of  the  woods,  and  the  lines  of  cavalry  and  infantry  waiting 
for  the  word  which  came  in  that  one  dull  boom  in  the  south- 
east. As  we  went  on  the  traces  of  the  battle  became  evident 
in  the  broken  tops  of  the  old  oaks,  wounded  so  that  a  quar- 
ter-century has  not  healed  them.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  human 
being  ever  entirely  recovered  from  a  square  blow  from  an 
ounce  or  half-ounce  ball,  and  trees  do  not  seem  to  outgrow 
their  battle-scars.  Saying  nothing  of  the  effects  of  artillery 
fire,  the  mark  of  a  musket-ball  on  a  tree  is  permanent.  The 
trees  on  the  field  of  Pea  Ridge  have  been  carefully  searched 
for  bullets  as  relics,  and  in  some  cases  it  has  been  found  that 
the  ball  after  striking  the  tree  has  bounded  back,  but  there  is 
the  blue-black  mark  in  the  wood  at  the  point  where  the  mis- 
sile ceased  to  penetrate. 

While  sauntering  along  looking  at  these  traces  of  war  in 
the  woods,  we  came  suddenly  and  without  warning  into  a 
clearing,  or  rather  cleared  country,  as  it  might  be  described, 
miles  in  extent,  and  a  large  two-story  white  building,  with  a 
piazza,  fronting  a  high  road  running  north  and  south  at  right 
angles  to  the  road  on  which  we  were  traveling.  The  house  was 
the  Elkhorn  Tavern,  and  the  highway  was  the  "  Wire  road." 

The  present  Elkhorn  Tavern,  it  may  be  said,  is  the  succes- 
sor to  the  original  tavern  which  gave  its  name,  in  Confederate 
annals,  to  the  battle  which  in  the  Union  histories  is  called  the 
battle  of  Pea  Ridge.  The  present  is  a  close  copy  of  the  orig- 
inal structure,  even  to  a  pair  of  elk-horns  in  the  center  of  the 
ridge  of  the  roof.  The  outside  chimneys  of  rock  have  even 
been  repeated,  and  the  letters  and  figures  "J.  M.  1885,"  high 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  39 

up  on  the  south  chimney,  would  indicate  that  as  the  year  of 
restoration.  The  tavern  was  established  fifty  years  ago,  which 
seems  to  have  been  the  period  of  the  white  settlement  of  this 
part  of  Arkansas,  by  an  Indiana  immigrant  named  Cox,  and 
his  son  is  the  present  landlord  of  the  Elkhorn.  Three  genera- 
tions of  the  Cox  family  have  thus  called  the  wayside  hostel 
their  home. 

In  the  great  days  of  the  "Wire  road"  the  Elkhorn  must 
have  been  a  famous-stopping  place,  as  Bentonville,  the  nearest 
town  until  within  a  few  years,  is  fourteen  miles  away.  Many 
an  honest  man,  in  the  old  days,  must  have  satisfied  his  hunger 
and  quenched  his  thirst  at  the  Elkhorn;  and  from  its  neighbor- 
hood to  the  Indian  Territory,  and  its  nearness  to  the  State 
line  of  Arkansas  and  Missouri,  it  is  reasonably  certain  that 
many  a  scoundrel,  keeping  one  eye  on  his  plate  and  the  other 
on  the  door,  dispatched  his  meal  under  its  roof  in  fear  and 
haste  and  went  on  his  evil  ways  perchance  with  a  stolen  beast 
between  his  legs,  and  prudently  unquestioned  by  his  host. 

Very  pleasant  on  the  December  morning  of  our  visit  looked 
the  Elkhorn  and  its  surroundings.  The  day  seemed  to  have 
dropped  from  the  middle  of  April  or  even  May  into  this  last 
week  of  December.  The  sun  was  bright  in  a  spotless  sky,  and 
the  illusion  of  Spring  was  the  further  perfected  by  the  green 
wheat-fields  which  spread  away  from  the  Elkhorn  to  the  south- 
ward, being  the  largest  scope  of  plow-land  we  had  seen  in 
Arkansas.  The  barns  and  stables  of  the  tavern  rose  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road,  and  a  little  to  the  north,  leaving 
the  view  unbroken  of  the  road  leading  to  Garfield  station  over 
which  we  had  come.  The  next  house  to  the  north  and  near 


40  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

at  hand,  was  a  log  cabin  inhabited  by  a  Mr.  Cox,  a  brother  of 
the  thrifty  host  of  the  Elkhorn,  but  to  whom  Fortune  seemed 
to  have  shown  the  back  or  convex  side  of  her  hand.  Like  all 
the  men  of  the  Elkhorn  neighborhood  we  met,  he  was  meager 
and  of  sorrowful  countenance,  even  as  Don  Quixote  de  la 
Mancha. 

The  first  thing  we  met  at  the  tavern  was  a  disappointment. 
Expecting  to  procure  horses  there  to  ride  over  the  field,  we 
were  informed  by  Miss  Cox,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  house, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  sole  occupant  of  the  inn,  that  her  father 
and  mother  had  gone  to  town  with  the  only  shod  animals,  and 
that  the  numerous  other  horses  of  all  sizes  and  ages  about  the 
premises  were  all  smooth,  and  not  fit  to  be  ridden.  The  prac- 
tice of  keeping  a  great  drove  of  horses  about,  each  of  whom, 
for  some  separate  and  distinct  reason,  is  not  fit  to  either  ride 
or  drive,  is  a  peculiarity  of  agricultural  life  all  over  the  West 
and  South. 

As  a  walk  over  the  whole  field  would  involve  from  twenty- 
five  to  thirty  miles'  travel,  the  idea  of  exploration  was 
abandoned. 

At  Prairie  Grove  as  at  Wilson's  Creek,  it  may  be  said  of 
both  armies  that  they  have  "carved  not  a  line  and  raised  not  a 
stone,"  but  for  some  reason  the  Confederates  seem  to  have 
reoccupied  the  field  of  the  battle  of  Elkhorn  Tavern  or  of 
Pea  Ridge.  A  few  years  ago,  in  the  presence  of  a  great  as- 
semblage of  people,  Gov.  Ross  of  Texas  being  one  of  the 
orators,  a  monument  was  dedicated  to  the  Confederate  dead. 
It  stands  near  the  Tavern,  and  was  first  visited.  It  is  a  slen- 
der shaft  of  white  marble,  such  as  may  be  seen  in  many  ceme- 


BATTLE   COENEES.  41 

teries  erected  by  individuals,  and  the  work  was  done  by  some 
stonecutter  in  Bentonville.  Considering  that  it  is  supposed 
to  represent  the  generous  remembrance  of  three  States,  it  is 
not  a  magnificent  monument,  and  certainly  not  commensurate 
with  the  hardy  and  patient  valor  of  the  men  it  is  designed 
to  commemorate.  It  stands  in  an  inclosure  surrounded  by  a 
rail  fence,  a  little  pasture  in  fact,  and  we  noticed  that  the 
foundation-stone  was  the  native  friable  sandstone  of  the 
neighborhood,  which  will  crumble  to  pieces  in  a  few  years,  in 
which  event  the  monument  will  fall  to  the  ground. 

The  four  faces  bear  inscriptions,  one  reciting  that  the 
monument  honors  all  the  Confederate  dead  who  fell  in  the 
battle ;  another  that  it  is  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Gen.  Ben. 
McCulloch,  of  Texas  ;  another  that  Gen.  James  Mclntosh,  of 
Arkansas,  died  on  this  field  ;  another  that  Gen.  James  Y. 
Slack,  of  Missouri,  here  met  his  fate.  The  inscriptions  con- 
vey the  impressions  to  be  obtained  also  from  all  historical 
sources,  that  Gen.  McCulloch  was  a  bold  soldier,  and  Gen. 
Mclntosh  a  greatly  beloved  man. 

We  sat  down  by  the  monument  and  saw  in  it  an  emblem  of 
the  ill-fated  Confederacy,  which  called  out  so  much  bravery, 
so  much  sacrifice,  so  much  enthusiasm,  so  much  poetry,  as 
typified  by  the  white  marble  shaft  and  its  sounding  inscrip- 
tions, yet,  after  all,  based  on  nothing  tangible,  as  shown  in 
the  crumbling  stone  at  the  foot  and  surrounded  during  all  its 
history  by  a  certain  squalor,  rudeness,  and  poverty  of  re- 
sources, which  could  neither  build  nor  rebuild ;  rendering 
courage  futile,  and  even  victory  useless. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  these  and  all  other  serious  re- 


42  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

flections  vanished  in  a  short  time.  The  sunlight  and  the 
warmth,  as  of  May,  was  very  seductive.  There  were  some 
black  walnut  trees  near  by,  the  ground  beneath  covered  with 
the  black-hulled  fruit,  and  a  little  farther  on  there  were  trees 
covered  with  persimmons.  Black  walnuts  and  persimmons 
and  a  sunny  day,  these  made  a  couple  of  middle-aged  men 
forget  wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  and  things  present  and  things 
to  come,  and  to  find  for  a  time  that  fountain  of  youth  which 
Ponce  de  Leon  sought  in  vain. 

Resuming  our  wanderings  we  noted  the  high,  wooded  and 
rocky  hill  to  the  west,  and  as  one  may  say,  in  the  rear  of  the 
tavern,  and  climbed  to  the  top  of  it.  Its  natural  ruggedness 
on  its  east  front  has  been  increased  by  quarrying  operations 
in  the  soft  sandstone,  perhaps  to  obtain  material  for  the  big 
chimneys  of  the  Elkhorn.  This  hill  is  the  easternmost  of  a 
high  range  of  hills  sometimes  called  Sugar  Mountains.  It 
runs  off  toward  the  southwest  in  a  succession  of  conical  for- 
ested hills,  and  toward  the  northwest  becomes  higher,  rougher 
and  more  heavily  timbered.  This  hill  commands  a  view  of  the 
ground  occupied  by  the  Union  forces.  It  was  itself  occupied 
by  the  Confederates  in  their  advance,  and  from  it  they  were 
driven  in  the  closing  hours  of  the  battle. 

The  Elkhorn  Tavern  may  be  said  to  be  on  the  dividing  line 
between  a  good  country  and  a  very  rough  and  poor  one.  Such 
a  thing  as  a  good  farm  or  a  moderate  competency  does  not  ex- 
ist north  of  the  Tavern  for  some  distance.  The  "Wire  road," 
after  passing  the  Tavern,  drops  down  a  tremendously  steep 
hill  and  enters  a  wooded  ravine,  really  a  wooded  canon,  Cross- 
Timber  Hollow.  The  term  Cross  Hollows,  which  several  times 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  43 

occurs  on  the  map  of  the  Battle  Corners  country,  means  what 
it  says  :  a  point  where  two  great  gashes  in  the  face  of  Mother 
Earth  cross  each  other  ;  or  where,  seemingly,  four  hollows  con- 
verge. Although  the  sun  was  now  high  in  the  heavens  it  did 
not  yet  penetrate  this  narrow  and  somber  valley,  nearly  filled 
by  the  road.  At  the  foot  of  the  steep  hill  there  was  formerly 
a  tannery.  All  above  ground  evidences  of  the  tannery  have 
now  disappeared,  but  by  searching  we  found  the  old  vats  now 
filled  with  grass  and  bushes.  There  was  not  much  of  human 
life  stirring  in  the  gorge ;  a  man  drove  along  with  a  collection 
of  bones,  horse-hide  and  ropes,  in  the  shape  of  team  and  har- 
ness, and  a  deformed  woman  limped  past,  with  one  dull  glance. 

The  popular  tendency  to  "locate,"  in  Western  parlance, 
on  poor  land,  must  have  puzzled  many  observers.  On  the  fair 
lands  stretching  to  the  southward  from  the  Tavern,  there  was 
scarcely  a  house  visible,  while  as  far  as  we  walked  along  this 
Canon  Diablo,  the  road  was  lined  with  cabins,  and  these  cabins 
were  filled  with  people.  These  were  the  "  poor  whites,"  of  the 
same  family  as  the  "Crackers,"  the  "Sand-hillers,"  the  "Clay- 
eaters,"  everywhere,  regardless  of  altitude,  latitude,  longitude, 
soil,  climate  or  circumstances,  the  same.  Once  it  was  said 
that  they  were  the  result  of  the  presence  of  black  slavery,  but 
slavery  has  been  dead  twenty-five  years  and  over,  and  still 
these  people  exist,  the  great  American  ethnological  enigma. 

Stopping  at  several  of  these  cabins,  as  we  retraced  our 
steps  toward  the  tavern,  we  endeavored  to  gain  some  idea  of 
the  local  understanding  of  the  battle.  While  standing  inside 
the  door  of  one  of  these  habitations,  talking  to  a  family 
group,  we  were  astonished  momentarily  by  finding  ourselves 


44  NANS  AS  MISCELLANIES. 

in  almost  total  darkness.  The  door  had  been  shut,  and  we  had 
forgotten  that  the  home  of  the  "Cracker"  has  no  windows. 

As  we  worked  our  way  toward  the  tavern,  the  standard  of 
intelligence  seemed  to  rise,  and  we  finally  listened  to  an  old 
man  who  opened  his  mouth  and  spake:  "Right  h'yer,"  said 
he,  indicating  a  wooded  ridge  running  off  to  the  southeast, 
"Gineral  Price  tuk  his  cannon  off  en  the  road.  He  palled  his 
cannon  along  up  the  ridge  by  hand,  and  ever  sence,  we've 
called  this  Price's  Peak.  My  wife's  father,  Passen  Williams, 
was  a  smart  man  and  a  powerful  preacher,  an'  I've  heern  him 
say  that  when  Gineral  Price  cut  loose  with  his  cannon,  he 
killed  fifteen  hundred  Federals  in  fifteen  minutes.  After  that, 
he  killed  some  mo',  but  not  so  many." 

Thanking  our  aged  friend  for  his  cheering  information,  we 
proceeded  along  the  "  Wire  road,"  as  so  many  people  interested 
in  war  had  done  before  us,  and  from  a  wretched  hovel,  in  the 
midst  of  a  correspondingly  miserable  field,  a  boy  came  forth 
to  ask  us  to  buy  relics  of  the  battle-ground.  He  had  a  rather 
good,  boyish  face,  but  had  the  sharp  whine,  that  can  turn 
easily  enough  into  a  curse  —  the  voice  of  the  mendicant  the 
world  over.  He  followed  along,  and  we  asked  him  if  many 
men  had  been  killed  thereabouts,  and  he  answered :  "  Oh,  lots 
of  the  Ninth  Iowa,  a  little  ways  up  the  road." 

Taking,  thus  the  Hotel  Elkhorn  as  a  center,  and  making 
little  excursions  therefrom,  the  stage  on  which  was  performed 
the  last  act  of  what  should  be  called  by  everybody  the  battle 
of  Elkhorn  Tavern  became  familiar. 

Not  far  to  the  east  of  the  tavern,  on  the  road  by  which 
we  came  from  Garfield  station,  we  had  noticed  a  cluster  of 


BATTLE   COENEES.  45 

locust  trees,  which  is,  like  an  old  and  abandoned  orchard,  a 
sure  sign  of  a  former  human  habitation.  Why  the  locust,  left 
to  itself,  does  not  run  wild  and  spread  over  the  country,  is  a 
mystery,  but  it  does  not.  When  fire  destroys  the  roof-tree  the 
locust  stands  shriveled  and  scorched  but  living  for  years  to 
mark  the  spot  and  the  calamity.  When  the  family  deserts 
the  hearthstone,  and  the  house  is  left  to  silence  and  decay, 
and  the  floors  sink  into  the  cellar,  and  the  roof  settles  to  the 
floor,  the  locust  remains  and  scatters  its  white  and  clustered 
blossoms  as  of  yore.  These  locusts  mark  the  spot  where 
stood  at  the  time  of  the  battle  the  "Clemens  house,"  and  the 
fields  across  the  road  were  fields  then,  and  do  not  cover  a 
much  larger  area  now  than  then. 

Of  this  part  of  the  field,  the  Elkhorn  Tavern  is  the  "head 
center."  The  last  fighting  of  the  battle  was  immediately  about 
it,  and  nearly  every  general  on  both  sides  at  one  time  or 
another  during  the  three  days'  fighting  visited  it.  There 
General  Van  Dorn  had  for  one  night  his  headquarters.  With- 
in a  few  hundred  feet  of  it  Churchill  Clark  —  who  seems  to 
have  been  the  favorite  artillerist  of  the  Confederate  army 
—  was  killed,  and  also  another  distinguished  officer,  Col.  Rives. 
So.  while  the  accident  of  the  "smooth"  horses  prevented  our 
going  to  Leetown  and  Pratt's  store  and  the  scenes  of  the  first 
fighting  done  by  Sigel's  people,  and  the  ground  of  Gen.  Albert 
Pike's  remarkable  operations,  which  are  described  in  a  yet 
more  remarkable  report,  and  the  spots,  now  marked,  where 
Generals  McCulloch  and  Mclntosh  were  killed,  we  made  a  care- 
ful study  of  the  ground  about  the  tavern,  and  at  the  tavern 


46  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

we  found  an  unexpected  help  to  the  understanding  of  the 
whole  three-days  struggle. 

The  reception-room,  if  that  high-sounding  name  may  be 
applied  to  it,  of  the  Elkhorn  Tavern,  has  become  a  sort  of  mu- 
seum as  visitors  to  the  field  have  become  numerous,  and  on  the 
wall  hung  a  blue-print  of  the  field  with  the  positions  of  the 
contending  armies  on  the  three  days,  drawn  by  Mr.  Hunt  P. 
Wilson,  of  St.  Louis,  who  was  present  at  the  battle  with 
Guibor's  Confederate  battery,  assisted  by  Gen.  John  W.  Noble, 
at  the  time  of  the  battle  adjutant  of  the  Third  Iowa  cavalry, 
and  by  Mr.  Joe  C.  Cox,  of  the  Elkhorn  Tavern.  While  this 
is  hardly  a  non-partisan  and  impartial  blue-print,  it  is  of 
value  to  the  visitor,  besides  being  an  ornament  to  the  room. 
It  was  not  the  only  ornament,  however  ;  over  the  mantel  was 
a  picture  rudely  representing  the  moment  when  the  Confed- 
erates captured  the  tavern.  Gen.  Price,  wearing  a  white  suit 
and  with  his  arm  in  a  sling  is  cheering  on  his  Missourians. 
A  figure  on  horseback,  supposed  to  be  Capt.  Churchill  Clark, 
is  directing  the  movements  of  a  battery  near  the  tavern  ; 
shells  are  bursting  all  over  the  neighborhood,  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  smoke. 

The  story  of  the  battle  of  Pea  Ridge  is  somewhat  compli- 
cated, as  it  consisted  of  three  different  series  of  fights.  Gen. 
Curtis  commenced  concentrating  his  army,  which  was  scattered 
about  the  country  for  subsistence,  on  the  line  of  Sugar-creek 
valley,  on  the  5th,  and  had  two  divisions  in  line  by  noon  on 
the  6th.  General  Sigel,  ordered  up  from  Cooper's  farm  near 
Bentonville,  lingered  as  usual,  was  attacked  on  the  road,  and 
it  was  necessary  to  send  troops  to  help  him  through,  which 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  47 

resulted  in  tight  No.  1.  In  the  meantime  Gen.  Curtis,  foreseeing 
a  flank  movement,  had  blockaded  the  woods  to  the  west  of 
his  position  with  fallen  timber,  but  while  it  delayed,  it  did  not 
prevent  the  movement  by  Price  on  the  Bentonville  and  Cassville 
road  to  the  north  and  rear  of  the  Union  army.  He  struck 
the  Telegraph  or  "Wire  road,"  north  of  the  Elkhorn  Tavern, 
turned  into  that  road  and  moved  south  directly  on  the  tavern, 
sending  batteries  up  a  ridge  commanding  the  tavern  and  the 
plateau  on  which  it  is  situated,  as  narrated  by  the  son-in-law 
of  "Passen  Williams."  In  the  meantime,  that  portion  of  the 
Confederate  army  commanded  by  McCulloch  and  Mclntosh, 
including  the  unique  Gen.  Pike  and  his  Indians,  was  encoun- 
tered near  Leetown,  and  here  the  Indians  ran  over  a  Union 
battery,  ran  back,  and  finally  ran  off.  The  regular  Confeder- 
ate forces  commanded  by  McCulloch  met  the  Union  forces 
commanded  by  Gen.  Asboth,  Col.  Osterhaus,  Col.  Jeff.  C.  Davis 
and  others.  This  was  a  second  battle,  and  resulted  in  a  change 
of  front  from  the  Sugar-creek  line,  substantially  from  south 
to  west.  This  battle  was  ended  as  far  as  the  Confederates 
were  concerned,  by  the  death  of  Generals  Mclntosh  and 
McCulloch;  the  latter  being  killed  by  Peter  Pelican,  a  soldier 
of  the  Thirty-sixth  Illinois,  who  served  as  a  private  till  the 
end  of  the  war.  Beginning  on  the  morning  of  the  7th,  and 
continuing  with  great  severity,  and  independent  of  the  Lee- 
town  battle,  occurred  the  fighting  between  Carr's  division, 
and  Price's  artillery  and  infantry,  all  Missourians.  This  was 
the  third  fight  in  the  series.  Price's  batteries,  Gnibor's, 
McDonald's,  Bledsoe's  and  Wade's  went  to  the  east  of  the 
"Wire  road;"  a  large  force  of. infantry  under  Little  and  Slack 


48  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

went  to  the  west  of  the  road;  and  our  advance,  consisting  of 
the  Ninth  Iowa  and  Boyd's  Missourians,  stationed  on  the  road 
between  the  tavern  and  the  tanyard,  was  between  two  fires. 
Here  Lieut.  Col.  Herron,  the  Capt.  Herron  of  Wilson's  creek, 
afterward  the  Gen.  Herron  of  Prairie  Grove,  had  his  horse 
killed,  and  was  himself  wounded  and  taken  prisoner.  His 
regiment,  the  Ninth  Iowa,  sustained  a  loss  in  killed  and 
wounded  of  213  men. 

The  lines  facing  north  and  east  inclosing  the  Clemens 
fields  were  held  by  Gen.  G.  M.  Dodge,  who  was  wounded,  and 
whose  horse  was  struck  by  twenty  musket-balls.  The  result 
of  the  combat  on  the  7th  was,  that  after  desperate  fighting, 
the  Union  lines  were  forced  back  past  the  Elkhorn  Tavern  ; 
General  Van  Dorn  establishing  his  headquarters  at  the  tavern. 
The  hill  to  the  west  of  the  tavern  was  held  by  the  Confederates. 
On  the  night  of  the  7th,  the  divisions  of  Jeff.  C.  Davis  and 
Sigel  joined  Carr's,  still  holding  on  near  the  tavern,  General 
Curtis  reasoning  that  with  four  divisions  he  could  hold  the 
ground  from  which  one  division  could  hardly  be  driven  the  day 
before.  All  the  artillery,  on  both  sides,  was  brought  up,  and 
at  sunrise  on  the  morning  of  the  8th  the  battle  was  renewed. 
Both  armies  had  slept  without  fires  during  the  night,  and 
Editor  Kennedy,  now  of  Springfield,  Mo.,  then  of  Guibor's 
battery,  told  me  that  on  waking  the  next  morning  he  saw  two 
or  three  dead  men  lying  near  him.  The  fight  was  ours  from 
the  start  on  that  morning.  Greusel's  Thirty-sixth  Illinois 
carried  the  high  hill;  the  Union  artillery  fire  was  overwhelming, 
and  at  about  10  o'clock  the  Confederates  retreated,  Price 
taking  the  road  east,  then  called  the  Van  Winkle  road,  from 


BATTLE  COBNEBS.  49 

its  use  by  a  famous  lumber  contractor  of  that  name,  but  which 
now  forms  part  of  the  road  to  Garfield  station.  This  portion 
of  Van  Dorn's  army  passed  entirely  around  the  Union  army. 
The  other  portion  fell  back  to  the  southward,  from  whence 
they  came.  The  Confederate  forces  were  divided.  A  great 
cavalry  general  might  have  pursued  one  or  both  fragments 
with  destructive  effect,  but  Philip  H.  Sheridan  was  in  those 
days  a  quartermaster.  Of  Gen.  Curtis  it  must  be  said,  that 
while  it  has  been  stated  that  he  was  whipped  at  Pea  Ridge, 
or  at  least  thought  he  was,  there  is  nothing  in  the  official  re- 
ports, or  in  the  local  traditions,  to  indicate  anything  of  the 
kind.  He  did  not  happen  to  be  a  popular  favorite  during  the 
war.  It  did  not  occur  to  anybody  to  call  him  a  "Little 
Napoleon,"  or  to  insist  that  his  blunders  were  evidences  of 
a  great  military  mind;  but  he  was,  nevertheless,  a  pure  patriot 
and  a  good  soldier.  When  the  living  Union  raises  a  monu- 
ment on  the  field  of  Pea  Ridge,  as  the  dead  Confederacy  has 
done,  his  name  should  be  remembered. 

The  nucleus  of  the  Confederate  army  at  Pea  Ridge  seems 
to  have  been  the  army  that  fought  at  Wilson's  Creek.  Gen. 
Slack,  who  was  killed  at  Pea  Ridge,  was  at  Wilson's  Creek,  and 
Col.  Hubert  fell  at  the  head  of  the  Third  Louisiana  regiment, 
which  he  commanded  at  Wilson's  Creek,  and  which  will  be 
found  mentioned  in  these  "memoirs."  The  Union  army,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  a  new  army.  Gen.  Sigel,  Col.  Osterhaus, 
Col.  Carr  and  a  few  other  officers  had  taken  part  in  the  Wilson's 
Creek  campaign,  but  the  mass  of  the  troops  came  from  be- 
yond the  Mississippi,  and  returned  thither.  One  regiment 
must  be  excepted,  the  Thirty-seventh  Illinois,  commanded  by 


50  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Col.  Charles  James  Black,  since  Commissioner  of  Pensions, 
which  command  remained  west  of  the  river  and  fought  bravely 
at  Prairie  Grove.  Asboth  and  Osterhaus  distinguished  them- 
selves in  the  Vicksburg  campaign  under  Grant.  Col.  Jeff.  C. 
Davis  afterward  became  a  Major  General  and  commander  of 
the  Fourteenth  Army  Corps.  For  two  years  the  writer  was 
accustomed  to  see  him  every  day,  a  silent,  lonesome-looking 
man,  with  sharp  features,  cold  eyes  of  an  uncertain  color,  and  a 
complexion  as  if  suffering  from  a  perpetual  case  of  jaundice. 
He  lived  entirely  in  his  headquarters,  and  seemed  to  take  very 
little  comfort  in  his  existence.  The  men  attributed  his  solemn 
looks  to  his  having  killed  Gen.  Nelson,  an  act,  however,  which 
every  soldier  approved.  In  a  volunteer  army,  speeches  from 
officers  of  high  rank  to  the  men  are  not  uncommon,  but  Gen. 
Davis  is  known  to  have  addressed  the  rank  and  file  but  once. 
When  the  news  came  that  the  National  flag  was  again  waving 
over  Fort  Sumter,  he  rode,  as  if  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse, 
into  the  midst  of  the  division,  and  as  the  men  gathered  about 
him  he  in  a  few  words  announced  the  fact.  He  was  a  lieuten- 
ant of  artillery  in  Fort  Sumter  when  it  was  surrendered  by 
Major  Robert  Anderson.  He  was  much  respected  by  the 
soldiers  of  his  command,  whose  eulogy  was  that  he  was  "  a 
good  marcher  and  a  good  feeder."  He  has  been  dead  for 
some  years. 

We  lingered  about  the  Elkhorn  till  the  sun  was  sinking; 
making  one  trip  over  the  broken  ground  to  the  northwest  in 
the  woods  where  a  board  nailed  to  a  tree  announced  that 
"Here  fell  General  Slack."  Near  this  tree  the  Commissioner 
secured  a  memento  of  the  field,  as  he  did  from  the  spot  where 


BATTLE  CORNERS.  51 

some  yet  unfilled  trenches  by  the  roadside  mark  the  place 
where  the  Ninth  Iowa  fought  and  where  so  many  died.  Mr. 
Cox  said  the  field  had  been  scoured  by  relic-hunters;  he 
thought  that  since  the  coming  of  the  railroad,  four  or  five 
tons  of  shot  and  shell  and  bullets  had  been  carried  away. 

General  officers  and  others,  in  their  reports  of  battles, 
frequently  omit  to  make  any  mention  of  the  weather.  Of 
Pea  Ridge,  it  may  be  said  that  on  the  5th,  the  day  before,  it 
snowed,  and  was  bitter  cold.  During  the  days  of  the  fighting 
it  was  chilly  and  the  nights  cold.  On  the  flank  march  by 
Price,  it  is  said  that  many  of  the  thinly-clad  Confederates  lay 
down  on  the  ground  and  never  rose  again;  they  were  chilled  to 
death.  So  close  together  were  the  opposing  lines  that  a  cais- 
son of  a  Union  battery  was  driven  into  the  Confederate  lines 
after  dark  and  captured.  Of  course  no  fires  could  be  kindled. 
But  when  the  battle  was  over,  the  weather  grew  warmer  and  it 
rained.  How  often  does  that  idea  of  the  forgiveness  of  Nature 
come  back  to  us.  Again  and  again  after  the  battles  of  the 
great  war,  the  rain  came  softly  in  the  night,  dropping  down 
in  darkness  to  the  tree-tops,  and  then  dropping  down  from 
limb  to  limb,  from  leaf  to  leaf,  to  the  ground.  Dropping, 
dropping  down,  to  cool  the  parched  tongues  of  wounded  men; 
to  check  the  fever's  flame ;  to  wash  the  blood  from  drawn 
faces  and  from  matted,  gory  hair.  Dropping  down  in  heavenly 
mercy  to  put  out  the  cruel  fire  that  had  started  among  the 
leaves,  crackling  and  creeping  nearer  to  those  who  could  not 
drag  themselves  out  of  its  way.  So  sang  the  rain  in  the  trees, 
so  it  pattered  on  the  ground,  so  it  gurgled  as  it  trickled  into 
streams  in  the  ravines,  that  the  dying  heard  in  it  familiar 


52  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

voices,  and  there  were  those  who  heard  in  it  even  the  singing 
of  "the  choir  invisible."  So  came  the  rain  over  the  wide  bat- 
tle-field of  Pea  Ridge;  so  it  fell  on  hillside  and  field.  It 
washed  the  blood  from  the  stained  earth,  and  filled  the  ruts 
made  by  the  cannon  wheels,  and  ran  from  these  into  the  little 
hollows,  and  then  into  the  great  ravines,  and  then  into  the 
great  Cross-Timber  Hollow,  and  on  to  the  river,  and  far,  far 
away  to  the  Mississippi  and  to  the  sea.  Then  in  a  month 
after  the  battle  came  the  Spring,  filling  the  forest  with  green 
leaves,  and  then  the  Autumn,  to  sprinkle  the  leaves  upon  the 
earth.  So  it  has  gone  on,  Spring  and  Autumn,  since,  till  now 
there  are  but  these  old,  crippled  and  shattered  oaks,  to  groan 
and  creak  in  the  blasts  of  the  wintry  night,  as  if  talking  to 
each  other  of  all  they  saw  in  the  great  battle,  and  all  that  was 
dared,  and  suffered,  and  done. 

It  was  dusk  by  the  time  we  had  reached  Garfield,  but  there 
was  time  for  supper  before  the  "Frisco"  train  came  up  from 
the  south,  and  somewhere  about  midnight  we  were  out  of  the 
woods  and  amid  the  sounds  and  lights  of  Springfield,  and 
while  we  had  been  but  a  few  days  "off  the  road,"  the  electric 
lights  and  bells  seemed  like  things  long  lost  and  come  back 
again.  In  the  morning  we  woke  up  and  discovered  that  cer- 
tain carefully  laid  plans  about  a  careful  study  of  the  battle  of 
Wilson's  Creek  had,  somehow,  got  lost.  The  guides  we  were 
to  meet,  the  authorities  we  were  to  consult,  and  various  other 
items  in  an  elaborate  program,  were,  we  found,  to  be  omitted. 
Of  course  a  conveyance  could  be  procured;  we  were  back  again 
where  money  could  procure  anything,  and  we  were  not  de- 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  53 

pendent  on  Farmer  Cox's  attention  to  having  his  horses  shod; 
but  the  drivers  of  "livery  rigs"  are  not  the  most  learned,  in- 
structive or  reliable  guides  in  existence,  and  it  happened  the 
driver  who  guided  our  chariot  had  never  even  visited  the 
battle-field. 

The  fair  weather  of  the  day  at  Pea  Ridge  continued,  and 
the  drive  of  ten  miles  southwest  was  a  pleasant  one.  The 
country  would  have  been,  had  it  not  been  for  the  numerous 
streams,  an  open,  rolling  prairie,  but  the  growth  of  brush  and 
trees  along  these  streams  fairly  divided  the  land  into  what 
New-Englanders  call  "woodland"  and  "tillage."  It  was  all  in 
such  cultivation  as  one  may  see  in  the  old  counties  of  Illinois 
and  Indiana,  and,  it  being  Saturday,  the  roads  were  lined  with 
farmers  coming  to  town.  They  looked  like  Ohio  and  Penn- 
sylvania people,  and  every  wagon  was  loaded  with  something 
for  the  Springfield  market.  The  road  has  been  changed  many 
times,  and  we  did  not  know  whether  we  were  on  Lyon's  road, 
or  not;  we  only  knew  that  it  was  the  "near"  road  to  Wilson's 
creek.  Guide-boards  were  unusually  numerous,  but  none  told 
the  distance  or  direction  to  the  battle-field;  yet  such  a  guide- 
board  would  have  answered  more  questions  than  any  other. 
After  driving  up  and  down  hill  for  a  certain  length  of  time,  we 
felt,  rather  than  knew,  that  we  were  on  the  field  of  Wilson's 
Creek. 

Here  was  a  valley  between  two  sharp  prairie  ridges — not 
a  creek-bottom,  exactly,  as  that  implies  a  level  surface,  but  a 
broken  valley  —  a  succession  of  ridges,  their  points  to  the 
south,  and  covered  with  brush  so  dense  it  seemed  that  a  rabbit 
could  hardly  make  his  way  through  it.  Along  the  east  side  of 


54  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

this  brushy  region  flowed  Wilson's  creek  —  a  bright,  rippling, 
clear  stream,  lacking  only  a  mill  to  be  called  a  mill-stream. 
This  was  the  upper  part  of  the  valley ;  to  the  south  there 
were  cornfields,  and  a  body  of  heavy  timber.  The  road  went 
down  the  hill  and  straight  across  the  valley,  crossing  a  small 
stream  called  Skegg's  branch,  which  empties  into  Wilson's 
creek,  and  then  ran  up  a  sharp  ascent  to  the  open  prairie,  past 
a  many-pinnacled  white  cottage.  There  are  several  houses 
about.  At  the  time  of  the  battle,  it  is  said,  there  was  but  one 
settler  in  the  neighborhood  —  a  Mr.  McNairy,  who,  finding  his 
dooryard  was  likely  to  be  the  location  of  a  civil  war,  packed 
up  and  went  back  to  that  land  of  refuge  —  Indiana.  We 
found  that  the  house  of  many  gables  was  beyond  the  limits 
of  our  investigation.  All  the  holy  ground  was  in  the  narrow 
valley  we  had  crossed.  WTe  turned  back  and  found,  near  the 
creek,  a  road  leading  up  a  ridge  through  the  brush  —  it  was  a 
mere  trace — and  passed  a  deserted  wooden  shanty,  coming  out 
in  an  open  space  near  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  This  open 
space  was  a  sterile  expanse  of  an  acre  or  so,  covered  with  flat 
rocks,  with  here  and  there  a  stunted  bush;  a  veritable  "blasted 
heath."  At  the  higher  and  upper  end  of  the  open  space  there 
was  a  pile  of  loose  stones;  not  a  cairn,  but  rather  as  if  one 
had  been  piled  there  and  then  scattered  about.  On  one  stone, 
"Newsom,"  late  of  "Hughes's"  regiment,  Missouri  (Confed- 
erate) troops,  had  carved  his  name.  This  is  said  to  be  the 
spot  where  Gen.  Nathaniel  Lyon — who,  had  he  lived,  would 
have  been  the  Stonewall  Jackson  of  the  Union  army  —  sank 
from  his  horse,  dead.  And  this  ridge  is  marked  on  Confeder- 
ate maps  as  "Bloody  Hill."  From  it  may  be  seen  all  there 


BATTLE   COENEES.  55 

was  of  the  battle  of  Wilson's  Creek,  and  that  was  very  simple. 
Gen.  Lyon  marched  out  from  Springfield,  passed  through  the 
enemy's  pickets,  gained  these  high  grounds,  and  was  almost 
upon  the  enemy,  who  were  camped  along  the  creek  to  the 
south,  before  they  were  aware  of  it.  Gen.  Sigel  had  marched, 
meanwhile,  by  another  road,  to  gain  the  enemy's  rear.  He 
did  so,  made  a  slight  attack,  was  attacked  in  turn,  lost  his 
guns,  and  went  back  to  Springfield,  arriving  there  as  early  as 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning.  This  left  the  entire  Confederate 
force  free  to  attack  Lyon,  and  Lyon's  slender  line,  stretching 
across  these  ridges,  charging  and  being  charged,  till,  after  the 
death  of  Lyon,  they  left  the  field  and  returned  to  Springfield, 
having  fought  from  sunrise  to  twelve  o'clock  —  this  made  up 
the  battle  of  Wilson's  Creek. 

The  field  will  always  be  of  interest  to  Kansans,  for  of  the 
four  full  volunteer  infantry  regiments  who  fought  here,  two 
were  from  Kansas,  and  they  were  the  First  and  Second;  here, 
too,  Iowa  had  her  First,  and  loyal  Missouri  her  First.  These 
were  the  "  first-fruits  "  offered  by  Kansas  on  the  altar  of  our 
common  country.  These  were  the  "boys"  who  went  into  the 
war  before  the  days  of  calculation;  before  drafts  or  bounties 
had  been  heard  of.  The  Kansas  "boys"  went  into  the  battle 
raw  volunteers,  they  came  out  of  it  veterans.  They  fought 
beside  regular  soldiers  of  the  United  States  army,  and  they 
fought  as  long  and  as  well.  The  battle  was  a  field  of  honor 
to  all  concerned.  From  it  came  seven  Major  Generals  and 
thirteen  Brigadier  Generals  of  the  Union  army,  and  of  these 
the  two  Kansas  regiments  furnished  their  quota,  when  it  is 
remembered  that  with  Lyon's  column  there  were  three  battal- 


56  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

ions  of  regular  infantry  and  two  light  batteries,  the  officers  of 
which  were  more  naturally  in  the  line  of  promotion. 

-The  great  figure  of  the  battle  was  Gen.  Lyon ;  his  death 
sanctified  the  field.  If  every  other  event  that  occurred  there 
were  forgotten,  it  would  still  be  remembered  that  Lyon  died 
there.  Kansas  in  her  proud  sorrow  remembers  that  it  was  as 
he  led  the  Second  Kansas  to  one  more  desperate  charge  that 
he  fell. 

The  volunteer  force  engaged  was  a  very  small  one  ;  to  all 
it  was  their  first  pitched  battle;  all  were  young;  and  the  ex- 
perience of  one  young  volunteer  was  the  experience  of  all. 
The  field  was  so  limited  that  what  one  saw  all  saw.  As  speak- 
ing not  only  for  the  Iowa  volunteer,  but  for  the  Kansas  vol- 
unteer, and  for  the  "  brave  boys  of  '61,"  who,  as  a  triumph- 
ant melody  of  the  war  period  assured  us,  were  the  boys 
who  feared  no  noise,  though  they  were  far  from  home,  let  us 
give  heed  to 

PBIVATE  IBONQUILL'S  NABBATIVE. 

"The  First  Iowa  infantry,  that  marched  with  Gen.  Lyon, 
was  composed  of  select  young  men  from  the  leading  families 
of  Iowa.  The  rush  to  get  into  the  regiment  was  so  great 
that  in  many  instances  money  was  paid,  and  social  and  family 
influence  worked  to  obtain  admission,  even  as  a  private  sol- 
dier. Mr.  Seward,  President  Lincoln's  Secretary  of  State, 
having  announced  that  the  war  would  be  over  in  ninety  days, 
the  boys  all  wanted  to  get  into  the  regiment,  thinking  it  would 
be  the  only  Iowa  regiment,  and  they  worked  on  the  same 
principle  as  many  do  who  desire  to  be  made  delegates  to 
State  Conventions  or  get  into  the  Legislature,  or  into  an  office 


BATTLE  COENERS.  57 

of  trust  and  profit.  The  companies  were  full  to  overflowing, 
and,  in  the  process  of  making  up,  many  young  men  were  re- 
jected, because  they  did  not  come  up  to  their  comrades'  ideas 
of  strength,  activity  and  style,  and  when  the  final  winnowing 
process  came,  being  the  examination  which  the  United  States 
army  officer  made,  those  retained  were  the  athletic  and  com- 
panionable. 

"Along  in  July,  of  1861,  during  a  campaign  in  which  they 
displayed  a  wond'erful  durability,  their  term  of  service  ex- 
pired, and  yet  they  had  been  engaged  in  no  notable  battle, 
nor  had  the  war  been  closed  in  ninety  days.  The  officers  of 
the  regiment  in  consultation  with  Gen.  Lyon  promised  him 
that  it  would  stay  until  such  a  decisive  battle  had  been  fought 
as  would  give  Gen.  Lyon  the  power  to  hold  his  position,  and 
time  to  be  reinforced. 

"About  the  1st  of  August,  1861,  large  bodies  of  Confederate 
volunteers  from  northern  Arkansas  and  southern  Missouri 
occupied  the  line  in  front  of  Gen.  Lyon,  south  of  Springfield, 
Mo.  About  sundown  on  the  1st  of  August,  we  were  drawn  up 
in  line,  marched  all  night,  came  to  the  enemy  at  9  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  2d,  southwest  of  Springfield,  and 
fought  the  battle  of  McCulla's  store.  On  the  next  day,  Satur- 
day, the  3d,  other  engagements  in  that  neighborhood  took 
place,  and  on  Sunday  morning  we  started  back  to  Spring- 
field; the  loss  of  the  enemy  being,  as  was  then  stated,  from 
175  to  200.  The  weather,  for  five  days,  had  been  terrifically 
hot.  Gen.  Lyon  appeared  fatigued  and  worried.  Gen.  Totten, 
who  commanded  the  artillery,  was  in  a  chronic  state  of  anger. 
His  lurid  oaths  could  be  heard  all  day,  and  the  private  soldiers 


58  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

listened  with  a  strange  dread  when  they  heard  his  deep  voice 
requesting  the  artillery  boys  to  do  something  in  about  the 
following  way  :  '  Forward  that  caisson, you,  sir.' 

"The  boys  in  the  First  Iowa  Infantry  ranged  in  age  from 
nineteen  to  twenty-five;  perhaps  the  majority  was  under 
twenty-two.  It  seemed  as  if  the  younger  the  soldier,  the  bet- 
ter he  stood  the  trip.  Returning  to  Springfield,  our  regiment 
was  sent  out  to  the  south  of  the  city  and  were  used  princi- 
pally as  outlying  pickets,  being  sent  far  but  in  companies 
at  night,  in  supporting  distance  of  other  troops,  and  brought 
back  at  daytime  to  sleep  in  the  shade  of  the  sumacs  and 
bushes  near  camp.  Our  rations  were  so  diminished  that  the 
boys  felt  dissatisfied,  being  practically  reduced  to  corn-meal 
and  beef.  As  the  days  went  by,  strange  rumors  of  the  number 
of  Confederates  around  us  began  to  circulate  in  camp.  Every 
night  while  on  picket  large  bodies  of  reconnoitering  cavalry 
appeared.  When  going  on  picket,  a  company  tore  down  rail 
fence  and  built  bastions.  The  rations  were  supplemented  at 
night  by  the  sending  of  details  down  into  the  heart  of  large 
cornfields;  and  with  rails  roasting  large  quantities  of  green 
corn,  it  being  the  rations  of  the  pickets.  The  condition  of  the 
moon  was  that  it  rose  late,  and  this  assisted  the  cavalry  to 
reconnoiter;  ere  morning  they  stole  back.  Sometimes  during 
the  night  before  one  of  the  rail  bastions  a  fusilade  began, 
and  the  pickets  were  reinforced.  And  frequently  a  straggling 
Confederate  crawling  through  a  cornfield  would  shoot  a 
picket,  and  frequently  one  or  two  from  a  picket-post  would 
crawl  out  and  unhorse  a  conspicuous  cavalryman. 

"The  9th  of  August,  1861,  was  an  exceedingly  hot  day.     All 


BATTLE  CORNERS.  59 

night  before  we  had  been  on  picket,  and  with  difficulty  some 
of  the  companies  escaped  being  taken  in;  and  the  company 
to  which  I  belonged,  being  out  about  three  miles  from  the 
city,  fell  back  half  a  mile  to  the  corner  of  a  large  cornfield  and 
barricaded  the  road  and  built  rail  pens,  working  nearly  all 
night.  In  the  morning  everything  was  clear  before  us,  and 
we  were  called  in.  There  was  great  commotion  in  the  city, 
and  rumors  that  the  city  was  to  be  attacked  by  the  Rebels 
within  twenty-four  hours;  that  Fremont  had  refused  to  re- 
inforce the  line;  that  Springfield  was  to  be  abandoned,  and 
that  we  were  to  march  to  Rolla  to  defend  the  terminus  of  the 
railroad,  where  fortifications  had  just  begun.  Shortly  before 
sundown  the  bugle  was  blown  at  our  regimental  headquarters 
south  of  town,  and  the  companies  fell  immediately  in  line 
separately.  There  were  no  tents  or  regimental  quarters,  be- 
cause we  had  no  tents  and  were  doing  our  sleeping  out  in  the 
open  air;  and  the  companies'  positions  were  marked  by  the 
fires  where  the  companies'  kettles  were  standing.  Each  com- 
pany fell  in  under  arms.  After  standing  there  a  few  min- 
utes, General  Lyon  was  seen  approaching,  riding  his  large 
dapple-gray  horse.  The  companies  were  formed  separately, 
there  being  quite  an  interval  in  some  places  between  them. 
Lyon  rode  past  the  companies  and  made  a  little  speech  to 
each.  We  couldn't  hear  what  he  said  to  the  companies  on 
either  side  of  us,  owing  to  the  distance  apart.  When  he  came 
to  our  company  his  words  were:  'Men,  we  are  going  to  have 
a  fight.  We  will  march  out  in  a  short  time.  Don't  shoot  un- 
til you  get  orders.  Fire  low  —  don't  aim  higher  than  their 
knees;  wait  until  they  get  close;  don't  get  scared;  it's  no 


60  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

part  of  a  soldier's  duty  to  get  scared.'  This  was  all  he  said, 
and  I  believe  it  is  a  verbatim  report;  for  we  often  afterwards 
talked  it  over  and  compared  notes,  practically  committing  it 
to  memory.  The  absurdity  of  the  last  expression  struck 
everybody  —  that  it  'was  no  part  of  a  soldier's  duty  to  get 
scared.'  His  tone  of  voice  was  so  low  that  it  appeared  as  if 
he  were  talking  under  exhaustion.  He  was  dressed  in  full 
uniform  buttoned  up  to  the  chin.  There  was  no  enthusiasm 
in  it,  and  in  fact  the  boys  thought  it  was  a  poor  effort.  None 
of  us  liked  him,  and  if  the  great  majority  had  not  had  sweet- 
hearts back  in  Iowa  we  would  have  left  him  long  before.  He 
always  wore  a  solemn,  hard-working  expression.  He  worked 
very  hard,  regardless  of  hours,  and  expected  all  of  his  men  to 
do  the  same.  He  had  no  compliment  or  kind  words  for  any- 
body, and  talked  to  his  soldiers  the  same  as  he  did  to  a  mule. 
"  Among  the  men  he  had  bitter  enemies  for  his  occasional 
severity  and  want  of  consideration.  The  boys  thought  as 
they  had  agreed  to  stay  with  him  voluntarily  that  he  ought  to 
do  better.  He  seemed  to  go  upon  the  theory  that  he  did  not 
want  his  men  to  think  kindly  of  him;  that  what  he  wanted  of 
them  was  to  have  them  understand  that  he -was  not  to  be 
fooled  with,  and  that  as  they  were  in  the  employ  of  the  Gov- 
ernment it  was  his  duty  to  see  that  the  Government  got  every- 
thing out  of  them  that  could  be  got  for  the  time  being.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  boys  felt  that  strange  confidence  which 
soldiers  always  feel  in  an  officer  whom  they  believe  under- 
stands his  business.  So  that  the  speech  that  General  Lyon 
made  produced  no  particular  effect  one  way  or  another,  and 
had  he  not  been  killed,  would  have  been  forgotten.  In  fact, 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  61 

the  boys  did  not  like  Lyon.  They  wanted  a  fight  so  that  they 
could  go  home  creditably,  to  themselves  and  their  sweethearts, 
and  they  knew  just  exactly  how  to  fire  a  musket,  and  they 
did  not  intend  to  be  scared,  whether  it  was  part  of  their  duty 
or  not. 

"  Soon  after  this  time,  when  Lyon  had  gone,  ammunition 
was  distributed  in  large  quantities  and  a  large  covered  army- 
wagon  drove  up  with  a  sergeant,  who  asked  how  many  men 
there  were  for  duty  in  our  company,  and  on  being  answered, 
threw  out  into  the  bushes  and  grass  an  equal  number  of 
loaves  of  bread.  These  loaves  of  bread  were  about  the  size 
of  an  ordinary  wooden  bucket,  perhaps  not  so  high,  but  fully 
as  large  through,  and  had  a  crust  brown  and  solid  of  about  an 
inch  thick  all  around.  My  action  regarding  my  loaf  was  per- 
haps descriptive  of  many  others ;  I  plugged  it  like  a  water- 
melon and  ate  my  supper  out  of  the  center.  I  then  fried  up  a 
lot  of  beef,  crammed  the  center  of  the  loaf  with  it,  poured  in 
all  the  gravy,  took  off  my  gun-sling,  ran  it  through  the  lip  of 
the  loaf,  filled  my  canteen,  filled  my  cartridge-box  and  pockets 
with  cartridges,  and  was  ready  to  march.  My  clothing,  while 
somewhat  different  from  the  rest,  was  of  the  same  general 
description.  We  had  no  uniforms ;  I  had  on  shoes  without 
stockings.  While  marching  through  Dade  county  I  ran  out 
of  clothes  and  secured  a  pair  of  winter  breeches  with  heavy, 
coarse,  cotton  'nigger-cloth'  lining.  On  the  outer  seam 
there  was  a  slight  fringe,  which  gave  it  the  appearance  of 
Indian  leggings.  The  boys  said  that  I  was  the  'Belle  of  the 
Mohawk  Vale'  —  a  song  then  new  and  quite  popular.  The 
hat  I  wore  was  a  white  wool  one,  quite  advanced  in  years,  that 


62  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

had  belonged  to  one  of  the  enemy  in  a  former  skirmish,  and 
of  the  broad-brim  type  so  much  affected  by  horse-thieves  in 
Kansas  at  the  present  day.  The  balance  of  my  clothing  was 
a  heavy  wool  mule-colored  shirt  with  breast  pockets,  each  of 
which  would  hold  twenty  rounds.  My  musket  bore  the  stamp 
date  of  '1829,'  was  long  in  the  barrel,  of  vast  bore,  vigorous 
recoil,  and  substantial  construction.  It  had  been  a  flint-lock; 
but  on  the  side  of  the  breech  where  the  priming  went  a  brass 
plug  had  been  fused  in,  and  a  percussion-lock  attached. 
There  were  officers  in  our  regiment  who  had  scaled  Chapul- 
tepec,  the  palace-home  of  the  Aztecs,  and  who  told  us  stories 
of  Buena  Vista  and  Molina  del  Key.  One  of  our  buglers  had 
sounded  the  charge  at  Palo  Alto,  and  one  of  our  fifers  told  us 
stories  of  the  wars  with  the  Seminoles,  in  the  everglades  of 
Florida. 

"  After  sundown,  as  soon  as  the  men  could  get  their  lunches 
and  fill  their  pockets  with  ammunition,  we  marched  into  the 
city  of  Springfield,  not  knowing  where  we  were  going.  We 
soon  found  that  we  were  to  go  southwest.  The  city  was  in 
frightful  disorder.  Every  available  means  of  transportation 
was  being  used  by  the  merchants  on  the  square  to  load  up 
and  haul  off  their  goods.  We  had  brought  nothing  along 
with  us  but  fighting  material,  and  had  left  behind,  where 
we  had  camped,  our  blankets  and  cooking  utensils.  Store- 
keepers brought  us  out,  during  our  very  brief  stop  of  a  few 
minutes,  tobacco,  sugar,  and  things  of  that  kind.  Starting 
west,  it  was  nightfall.  When  we  got  out  of  town  and  marched 
along  the  cornfields,  the  boys  that  didn't  have  any  sweet- 
hearts, slipped  into  the  cornfields  and  through  the  fences  to 


BATTLE  GOENEES.  63 

get  roasting-ears,  and  never  succeeded  in  catching  up  with 
the  company  until  after  the  battle  was  over.  But  there  were 
not  many  of  these,  and  the  other  boys  made  life  a  burden  for 
them,  not  only  during  the  balance  of  their  service,  but  for 
years  afterward,  until  they  moved  somewhere  where  they  were 
unknown.  Without  doubt  they  rank  among  the  loudest  howl- 
ers, and  the  most  accurate  and  regular  pension-drawers  that 
exist. 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  what  part  Gen.  Sigel 
took  in  the  Wilson  Creek  fight.  The  day  had  been  fearfully 
hot,  and  as  the  night  began  to  grow  cool,  life  became  more 
desirable,  and  the  marching  was  anything  but  a  funeral  pro- 
cession. The  boys  gave  each  other  elaborate  instructions 
as  to  the  material  out  of  which  they  wanted  their  coffins 
made,  and  how  they  wanted  them  decorated.  Bill  Huestis 
said  that  he  wanted  his  coffin  made  out  of  sycamore  boards, 
with  his  last  words  put  on  with  brass  tacks,  which  were:  'I 
am  a-going  to  be  a  great  big  he-angel.'  ( Bill  still  lives.)  Af- 
ter going  several  miles  in  the  night,  our  road  that  we  were 
following  was  found  to  be  leading  tortuously  around  among 
the  rocks  and  trees  and  brush  among  the  hills,  and  we  were 
ordered  to  keep  still  and  to  make  no  noise.  About  that  time 
a  cavalryman  passed  us  from  the  front,  and  we  noticed  that 
he  was  going  slowly,  and  that  his  horses'  feet  had  cloths  tied 
around  them,  banded  at  the  fetlock.  During  the  stoppage  there 
was  a  passing  to  and  fro  along  the  line,  and  some  one  said  that 
blankets  had  been  tied  around  the  artillery  wheels.  We  moved 
short  distances  from  twenty  to  a  hundred  yards  at  a  time, 
and  kept  halting  and  closing  up,  and  making  very  slow  prog- 


64  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

ress.  Finally  we  were  practically  involved  in  the  timber  and 
among  the  side-hills  of  a  water-course.  There  were  some 
little  light  clouds  and  it  was  light  enough  to  see  a  short  dis- 
tance around  us,  by  starlight.  Finally  word  was  passed  along 
the  line  that  we  were  inside  the  enemy's  pickets,  but  were  two 
or  three  miles  from  their  camp,  and  rumor  magnified  the 
number  of  the  enemy  to  twenty-five  thousand.  We  could  see 
the  sheen  in  the  sky  of  vast  camp-fires  beyond  the  hills,  but 
could  not  see  the  lights.  We  also  heard  at  times  choruses  of 
braying  mules. 

"About  this  time,  while  we  were  moving  along  we  passed 
around  the  brow  of  a  low,  rocky  hill,  and  the  line  stopped  at 
a  place  where  our  company  stood  on  a  broad  ledge  of  rock. 
It  must  have  been  about  11  o'clock.  I  never  did  know  the 
hour,  but  I  laid  down  on  this  rock  to  get  rested.  The  cool, 
dewy  night  air  made  me  feel  chilly  in  the  '  linings '  which  I 
was  wearing,  and  the  radiating  heat,  which  the  rock  during 
the  day  had  absorbed,  was  peculiarly  comfortable.  I  went  to 
sleep  in  from  five  to  ten  seconds  and  slept  deliciously.  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  that  if  we  were  going  to  have  a  battle  I 
certainly  would  not  get  killed,  but  might  need  all  my  strength 
and  ability  in  getting  away  from  the  enemy's  cavalry.  The 
anxiety  which  novelists  describe,  and  the  wakefulness  on  the 
eve  of  battle,  are  creatures  I  presume  of  the  imagination  of 
the  novelists  respectively.  I  do  not  know  what  took  place, 
until,  early  in  the  morning,  just  as  there  was  a  slight  flush  of 
dawn  in  the  east,  somebody  came  along  and  woke  us  all  up, 
and  told  us  to  keep  still  and  fall  into  line.  We  marched  a 
short  distance  and  struck  an  open  piece  of  ground  where  we 


BATTLE  COENEES.  65 

could  see  all  who  were  marching,  those  in  our  front  and  those 
in  our  rear.  The  cavalry,  artillery  and  infantry  were  march- 
ing in  companies,  abreast,  and  in  close  order.  In  a  short 
time  as  it  began  to  grow  a  little  light  we  heard  a  gun  fire.  In 
a  short  time  two  or  three  more.  Then  some  regular  troops 
were  detailed  as  skirmishers  and  circled  around  to  our  left. 
In  a  short  time  we  found  that  the  enemy  were  alive 'and 
active.  Our  regiment  was  ordered  to  go  in  a  direction  to  the 
left,  and  to  take  a  position  on  a  ridge ;  the  enemy  in  strag- 
gling numbers  were  shooting  at  us  from  the  ridge.  The 
skirmishers  fell  back.  As  we  marched  up  the  hill,  it  came  in 
my  way  to  step  over  one  of  the  skirmishers  who  was  shot 
right  in  front  of  me.  He  was  a  blue-eyed,  blonde,  fine-look- 
ing young  man,  with  a  light  moustache,  who  writhed  around 
upon  the  ground  in  agony.  I  asked  him  where  he  was  shot 
while  I  was  walking  past,  but  he  seemed  unable  to  compre- 
hend or  answer,  and  perhaps  in  the  noise  heard  nothing.  As 
we  started  up  the  ridge  a  yell  broke  from  our  lines  that 
was  kept  up  with  more  or  less  accent  for  six  hours.  We  took 
a  position  on  the  ridge  and  the  country  seemed  alive  on  both 
our  right  and  left.  Wilson's  creek  was  in  our  front,  with  a  de- 
scending hill  and  a  broad  meadow  before  us,  in  which  about 
five  acres  of  wagons  were  packed  axle  to  axle.  The  hills  had 
some  scattering  oaks,  and  an  occasional  bush,  but  we  could 
see  clearly,  because  the  fires  had  kept  the  undergrowth  eaten 
out,  and  the  soil  was  flinty  and  poor.  Since  that  time  a  large 
portion  of  the  country  has  been  covered  with  an  impenetrable 
thicket  of  small  oaks.  But  in  those  days  the  trees  were  rather 
large ;  were  scrawling  and  straggling,  and  everything  could 


66  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

be  distinctly  seen  under  them  all  around.  Across  the  creek, 
which  was  not  very  far,  a  battery  of  artillery  made  a  specialty 
of  our  ranks,  and  we  all  lay  down  on  the  ground  and  for  some 
time  the  shells,  round  shot  and  canister  were  continually  play- 
ing over  our  heads.  Some  of  the  canister  fell  into  our  ranks. 
They  were  coarse  cast-iron  balls,  about  an  inch  to  an  inch  and 
a  half  in  diameter.  Where  they  struck  in  the  ground  the  boys 
hunted  for  them  with  their  hands.  The  shells  were  shrapnels, 
being  tilled  with  lead  balls  run  together  with  sulphur.  Our 
company  did  not  have  much  to  do  for  awhile  in  the  way  of 
shooting,  and  we  simply  laid  on  the  ridge  and  watched  the  bat- 
tery in  front  of  us,  or  sat  up  or  kneeled  down,  and  when  we 
saw  the  puff  of  the  artillery  we  dodged  and  went  down  flat, 
and  in  the  course  of  fifteen  minutes  gained  so  much  confi- 
dence that  the  boys  felt  no  hesitation  in  walking  around  and 
seeing  what  they  could  see,  knowing  that  they  could  dodge 
the  artillery  ammunition. 

"  In  a  little  while  two  pieces  of  artillery  were  run  up  on  the 
ridge  between  our  company  and  the  company  on  the  right. 
One  was  a  six-pound  gun,  and  the  other  was  a  twelve.  They 
started  in  to  silence  the  enemy's  artillery,  and  a  concentration 
of  fire  began  in  our  neighborhood  near  the  cannon.  The  duel 
was  very  interesting,  and  our  boys  stayed  close  to  the  earth. 
Considerable  damage  was  done  to  the  guns,  but  they  were  not 
silenced.  One  of  the  large  roan  horses  that  pulled  the  gun 
was  standing  back  of  the  gun  and  over  the  crest  of  the  hill. 
A  shell  from  in  front  of  us  struck  this  horse  somehow  and  tore 
off  its  left  shoulder.  Then  began  the  most  horrible  screams 
and  neighing  I  ever  heard.  I  have  since  that  time  seen 


BATTLE  COENER8.  67 

wounded  horses,  and  heard  their  frantic  shrieks,  and  so  have 
all  other  soldiers,  but  the  voice  of  this  roan  horse  was  so  abso- 
lutely blood-curdling  that  it  had  to  be  put  to  an  end  immedi- 
ately. One  of  the  soldiers  shot  the  horse  through  the  heart. 

"In  a  little  while,  in  front  of  us,  appeared,  advancing  in 
the  meadow,  a  body  of  men  that  we  estimated  at  about  one 
thousand.  They  seemed  to  be  going  to  attack  somebody  on 
our  left.  Our  artillery  stopped  shooting  over  their  heads  at 
the  enemy's  battery,  but  turned  upon  the  meadow,  and  in  a 
short  time  the  enemy  were  in  perfect  confusion. 

"On  the  edge  of  the  meadow  toward  us,  and  between  us,  was 
a  fence.  The  enemy  rallied  under  the  shelter  of  that  fence, 
and,  as  if  by  some  inspiration  or  some  immediate  change  of 
tactics,  or  orders,  they  started  for  our  guns.  As  they  got 
nearer  to  us,  their  own  artillery  ceased  to  tire,  because  it  en- 
dangered them.  Then  we  rose,  and  when  they  got  close  the 
firing  began  on  both  sides.  How  long  it  lasted  I  do  not  know. 
It  might  have  been  ten  minutes,  it  might  have  been  an  hour; 
it  seemed  like  a  week.  Every  man  was  shooting  as  fast  as  he 
could  load,  and  yelling  as  loud  as  his  breath  would  go.  We 
had  paper  cartridges,  and  in  loading  we  had  to  bite  off  the. 
end,  and  every  man  had  a  big  quid  of  paper  in  his  mouth,  from 
which  down  his  chin  ran  the  dissolved  gunpowder.  The  other 
side  were  yelling,  and  if  any  orders  were  given  nobody  heard 
them.  Every  man  stood  up  and  assumed  the  responsibility 
of  doing  as  much  shooting  as  he  could. 

"Finally,  the  field  was  so  covered  with  smoke  that  not 
much  could  be  known  as  to  what  was  going  on.  The  day  was 
clear  and  hot.  As  the  smoke  grew  denser,  we  kept  inching 


68  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

forward,  as  we  fired,  and  probably  went  forward  in  this  way 
twenty-five  yards.  We  noticed  less  noise  in  front  of  us,  and 
only  heard  the  occasional  boom  of  a  great  big  shot-gun,  with 
which  some  of  the  Rebel  companies  were  armed. 

"Onr  firing  lulled,  and  as  the  smoke  cleared  away,  sitting 
on  the  fence  in  front  of  us,  on  the  edge  of  the  meadow,  was  a 
standard-bearer,  waving  a  hostile  flag.  I  do  not  know  its  de- 
scription, but  it  was  not  a  Union  flag.  The  firing  having 
ceased,  we  were  ordered  back  and  told  to  lie  down,  but  the 
boys  would  not  do  it  until  the  Rebel  artillery  opened  on  us 
again.  Several  wanted  to  shoot  at  the  man  on  the  fence,  but 
the  officers  went  along  the  line  threatening  to  kill  the  first 
man  that  raised  a  musket,  which  was  all  right,  that  being  the 
way  certain  things  were  done.  The  boys  understood  the 
threat,  however,  and  knew  that  if  they  disobeyed  they  would 
at  some  future  time  get  into  the  guard-house,  and  they  sim- 
ply observed,  that  if  their  officers  did  anything  out  of  the  way 
they  would  get  'licked'  just  as  soon  as  all  got  mustered  out 
—  it  being  generally  understood  that  the  privates  in  the  ranks 
had  a  higher,  or  at  least  equal  social  footing  at  home  with 
their  officers,  they  all  being  volunteers. 

"In  the  meantime,  however,  a  little  Irish  sergeant,  who 
appeared  to  stand  about  five  feet  high,  and  sported  a  large, 
fiery  moustache,  turned  the  twelve-pound  gun  on  the  man 
who  was  waving  the  flag  on  the  fence  in  such  a  foolhardy  way. 
The  gun  went  off,  the  Rebel  flag  pitched  up  in  the  air,  and  the 
man  fell  to  pieces  gradually  over  the  fence;  and  at  least  a 
thousand  men  on  our  side,  who  saw  it,  cheered  in  such  loud 
unison  that  it  could  have  been  heard  as  far  as  the  report  of 


BATTLE   CORNERS.  69 

the  twelve-pounder.  I  am  not  able  to  give,  in  any  moderate 
limits,  the  history  of  the  charges  and  counter-charges  on  the 
slope  of  that  hill.  In  one  of  them  the  Rebel  infantry,  in  its 
charge,  worn  down  to  a  point,  with  its  apex  touched  the 
twelve-pounder,  and  one  man  with  his  bayonet  tried  to  get 
the  Irish  sergeant,  who,  fencing  with  his  non-commissioned 
officer's  sword,  parried  the  thrusts  of  the  bayonet.  Others 
were  around  the  guns,  but  none  of  them  got  away.  The  bal- 
ance were  started  back  down  the  hill ;  the  twelve-pounder 
was  loaded,  and  assisted  their  flight. 

"At  one  time  we  were  charged  by  a  large  detachment  of 
Louisiana  troops.  They  made  the  most  stubborn  fight  of  the 
day.  They  had  nice,  bright,  new  rifled  muskets  from  the 
armory  at  Baton  Rouge,  which  armory  had  by  the  secession 
leaders  been  judiciously  filled,  before  the  war,  from  a  Northern 
arsenal. 

"I  had  a  musket  made  in  '1829,'  a  clumsy  smooth-bore;  the 
troops  in  front  were  armed  with  the  finest  weapons  of  that  age. 
We  were  borne  back  by  the  charge  of  the  Louisiana  regiment, 
slowly  in  the  course  of  the  firing,  as  much  as  fifty  yards.  Squads 
of  Rebel  cavalry  had  been  seen  in  our  right  rear,  and  while  the 
enemy  were  safe  in  running,  we  were  not.  No  man  deserted 
the  ranks.  During  that  fight,  our  color  sergeant,  the  athlete 
of  the  regiment,  a  large  and  powerful  young  man,  and  a  great 
favorite,  received  a  minie  ball  on  the  crest  of  the  forehead. 
The  ball  went  over  his  head,  tearing  the  scalp,  sinking  the  skull 
at  the  point  of  impact  about  the  eighth  of  an  inch.  He  bled 
with  a  sickening  profusion  all  over  his  face,  neck  and  clothing; 
and  as  if  half-conscious,  crazed,  he  wandered  down  the  line, 


70  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

asking  for  me:  he  was  my  bunk-mate.  I  handed  him  my  can- 
teen, and  sat  him  down  by  the  side  of  a  tree  that  stood  beside 
our  line,  but  he  got  up  and  wandered  around  with  that  canteen, 
perfectly  oblivious;  going  now  in  one  direction,  and  then  in 
another.  From  that  depression  in  the  skull,  a  wasted  skeleton, 
he,  the  athlete,  died  shortly  after  his  muster-out,  with  consump- 
tion. 

"We  succeeded  in  repulsing  the  Louisiana  troops,  although 
we  were  not  numerically  superior.  Our  former  victory  had 
given  us  great  confidence,  and  no  man  broke  ranks  or  ran. 
As  the  Louisiana  troops  were  going  we  followed  them  some 
little  distance  down  the  slope,  and  we  put  in  about  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes  gathering  up  fine  shot-guns  and  fine  rifled  mus- 
kets, and  looking  over  the  fellows  that  were  laid  out.  I  still 
have  two  bullets  left  that  I  took  from  a  Louisiana  cartridge 
box. 

"About  this  time  we  heard  yelling  in  the  rear,  and  we  saw  a 
crowd  of  cavalry  coming,  with  their  apex  pointing  steadily  at 
our  pieces  of  artillery.  We  were  ordered  to  step  forward  and 
meet  them.  We  advanced  down  the  hill  about  forty  yards  to 
where  our  view  was  better,  and  rallying  in  round  squads  of  fif- 
teen or  twenty  men  as  we  had  been  drilled  to  do,  to  repel  a 
cavalry  charge,  we  kept  firing  and  awaiting  their  approach. 
Our  firing  was  very  deadly,  and  the  killing  of  horses  and  riders 
in  the  front  rank,  piled  the  horses  and  men  together,  as  they 
tumbled  over  each  other  from  the  advancing  rear;  so  that  the 
charge,  so  far  as  its  force  was  concerned,  was  checked  before 
it  got  within  fifty  yards  of  us. 

"In  the  meantime  over  our  heads,  the  artillery  took  up  the 


BATTLE  CORNERS.  71 

fight,  and  the  cavalry  scattered  through  the  woods,  leaving  the 
wounded  horses  and  men  strewn  around.  We  captured  several 
dismounted  men  by  ordering  them  in  under  cover  of  a  gun. 
A  flag  was  seen  lying  on  the  ground  about  150  yards  in  front 
of  us,  but  no  one  was  ordered  or  cared  to  undertake  to  go  and 
bring  it  in.  In  a  few  minutes  a  solitary  horseman  was  seen 
coming  towards  us,  as  if  to  surrender,  and  the  cry  therefore 
rose  from  us,  'Don't  shoot!'  When  within  about  twenty  yards 
of  that  flag,  the  horseman  spurred  his  horse,  and  leaning  from 
his  saddle,  picked  the  flag  from  the  grass,  and  off  he  went 
with  it  a-flying.  The  flag  bore  the  'Lone  Star'  of  Texas,  and 
we  did  not  shoot  at  the  horseman,  because  we  liked  his  dis- 
play of  nerve. 

"In  a  few  minutes  a  riderless  horse  came  dashing  over  the 
ground,  and  as  he  passed  a  bush,  a  man  with  a  white  shirt, 
covered  with  blood,  stopped  the  horse,  slowly  and  painfully 
mounted,  and  rode  off.  The  cry  passed,  'Don't  shoot!'  and 
the  man  escaped. 

"In  the  meantime,  artillery  fire  concentrated  on  us,  and  the 
Irish  sergeant  yelled,  'They  are  shooting  Sigel's  ammunition 
at  us!'  Sigel  had  been  whipped,  because  his  men,  elated  by 
victory,  had  stopped  to  plunder  the  lower  camp.  We  had  driven 
the  Rebels  from  the  upper  camp  into  the  lower  camp.  Our 
artillery  had  set  on  fire  and  destroyed  the  acres  of  wagons 
parked  in  the  meadow. 

"Some  few  spasmodic  efforts  were  made  to  dislodge  us,  all 
of  which  we  repulsed.  Finally  the  hostile  artillery  in  our 
front  ceased  firing,  and  there  came  a  lull;  finally  the  last 
charge  of  the  day  was  made,  which  we  repulsed,  and  the  field 


72  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

was  ours.  Word  had  been  passed  along  the  line  that  Lyon  was 
killed.  A  big  regular  army  cavalry  soldier  on  a  magnificent 
horse  rode  down  alongside  of  the  rear  of  our  company,  and 
along  the  line,  and  appeared  to  have  been  sent  for  the  pur- 
pose of  bracing  us  up.  He  shouted  and  swore  in  a  manner 
that  was  attractive  even  on  a  battle-field,  and  wound  up  with 
a  great  big  oath  and  the  expression,  'Life  ain't  long  enough 
for  them  to  lick  us  in.'  After  this  last  repulse  the  field  was 
ours,  and  we  sat  down  on  the  ground  and  began  to  tell  the 
funny  incidents  that  had  happened.  We  looked  after  boys 
who  were  shot,  sent  details  off  to  fill  the  canteens,  and  we  ate 
our  dinners,  saving  what  we  did  not  eat  in  a  big  crust  and 
hanging  it  over  our  shoulders  on  our  gun-slings.  We  regretted 
very  much  the  death  of  General  Lyon,  but  we  felt  sanguine 
over  our  success,  and  thought  the  war  was  about  ended. 

"  In  a  little  while,  there  being  nothing  visible  in  front  of  us, 
an  orderly  came  and  told  us  to  move  forward,  and  the  artillery 
to  go  to  the  rear.  The  artillery  had  to  be  helped  off;  we  moved 
forward  about  one  hundred  yards,  then  wheeled  to  the  right, 
marched  some  little  distance  down  the  line  of  battle,  and  sup- 
posed that  we  were  going  to  chase  the  enemy  down  Wilson 
creek,  but  instead  of  this  an  order  came  for  us  to  wheel  to  the 
right,  and  take  up  a  position  in  the  rear.  We  marched  to  the 
rear,  perhaps  a  half  mile  or  more,  and  on  a  ridge  found  the 
artillery  and  some  of  the  infantry  drawn  up  in  a  line  of  battle. 
We  were  fronted  about,  but  nobody  pursued  us,  and  several  of 
the  boys  who  had  brought  packs  of  cards  along  sat  down  in 
groups  and  played.  In  the  meantime  our  ambulances,  am- 


BATTLE  COBNEBS.  73 

munition  wagons  and  other  transportation  had  moved  to 
Springfield,  eight  or  nine  miles  distant. 

"The  boys  were  highly  pleased  that  they  had  got  through 
with  the  day  alive,  and  there  was  no  idea  on  their  part  that  the 
day  had  gone  against  them.  So  much  was  this  so,  that  myself 
and  two  corporals  went  off  to  a  distant  farmhouse  to  buy 
some  peaches,  the  lieutenant  consenting,  providing  we  would 
bring  a  lot  back  to  the  boys,  and  return  when  we  heard  a  gun 
fire.  While  at  the  house  we  bought  some  buttermilk,  and 
stopped  with  an  old  man  to  tell  him  the  story  of  the  fight, 
when  in  a  little  while  we  saw  the  dust  rising,  and  saw  that  the 
whole  detachment  was  going  through  to  Springfield  by  the 
road.  This  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  as  near  as 
I  can  judge.  A  boy  came  in  shortly  afterward,  and  said  that 
everybody  had  gone  to  Springfield. 

"  In  a  little  while  we  got  rested,  and  we  started  on  after  the 
army.  There  was  nobody  following ;  stragglers  came  along 
occasionally,  and  we  sat  down  and  rested  from  time  to  time. 
We  were  so  hoarse  from  yelling  that  we  could  hardly  talk.  The 
reiterated  kick  of  '  1829 '  made  my  shoulder  feel  as  if  I  had 
the  rheumatism.  We  did  not  get  into  Springfield  until  after 
sundown. 

"There  was  absolutely  no  pursuit  whatever.  When  we  got 
into  Springfield  we  heard  that  about  noon  the  report  of  the 
death  of  Lyon  had  come  in,  and  that  all  the  army  supplies  and 
stores  had  been  sent  northeast  to  Holla,  and  that  every  mer- 
chant that  could  move  anything  had  moved  it.  As  we  three 
came  into  town,  grocery  merchants  hailed  us  to  come  in  and 
get  what  we  wanted.  One  man  took  a  ham,  another  found 


74  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

something  to  put  some  sugar  in;  some  took  one  thing,  some 
another.  One  merchant  pounded  in  a  sugar-hogshead  head  on 
the  street  and  told  the  boys  to  take  it  all  if  they  could.  It  was 
so  with  tobacco,  and  nearly  everything  else.  Union  men  did 
not  wish  to  furnish  the  Rebel  army  with  supplies.  We  hunted 
for  our  company,  and  found  that  an  order  had  been  received 
to  burn  everything  that  we  could  not  move,  and  go  to  Rolla. 
The  boys  were  all  angry  and  swearing  at  the  officers.  The  offi- 
cers seemed  all  to  be  swearing  at  each  other.  Having  eaten 
the  balance  of  my  loaf  and  toasted  some  beef  on  a  ramrod,  I 
found  out  that  all  of  our  blankets  and  camp-kettles  had  been 
sent  off  on  the  wagon  train.  My  two  companions  and  I  laid 
down  on  the  ground,  carefully  folded  the  blue  sky  around  us, 
and  slept  refreshingly  all  night,  until  early  in  the  morning. 
We  must  have  started  about  four  o'clock,  for  it  had  grown 
light  as  we  passed  the  suburbs  of  Springfield,  which  was  then 
a  small  town.  There  were  two  roads  from  Springfield  to 
Rolla.  One  was  the  '  Mountain '  road,  the  other  the  '  Valley ' 
road. 

"On  the  llth  of  August,  the  day  after  the  battle,  we  marched 
thirty-two  miles.  In  the  meantime  Rebel  sympathizers  on 
horseback  had  spread  the  word  that  we  were  retreating.  The 
'Valley'  road  was  the  best  road  for  troops  to  travel,  and  the 
one  over  which  the  military  trains  and  supplies  came.  In 
order  to  head  off  and  ruin  us  the  people  on  the  'Valley'  road 
turned  out,  felled  the  trees,  tore  up  bridges,  and  sealed  up  the 
road.  We  took  the  other  one,  and  consequently  the  cavalry 
of  the  Confederacy  were  prevented  from  heading  us  off  and 
beating  us  into  Rolla.  When  they  were  in  full  flight  towards 


BATTLE   COENEES.  75 

Arkansas,  they  heard  of  our  abandoning  Springfield,  and  they 
turned  back  to  pursue  us.  We  could  have  held  Springfield 
with  our  army  and  invaded  Arkansas  with  it  if  Lyon  had  lived 
or  had  been  properly  succeeded. 

"The  second  day  from  Springfield  we  only  marched  three 
miles.  Our  Generals  had  to  stop  and  quarrel  over  who  should 
assume  command.  Sigel,  who  had  been  so  severely  handled 
at  Wilson's  Creek,  wanted  to  command  the  army,  and  the  reg- 
ular officers  would  not  stand  it.  He  and  Sturgis  quarreled  it 
out.  The  result  of  the  Wilson  Creek  battle  was  lost  by  the  dis- 
cordant animosities  of  the  leading  officers.  If  some  one  had 
taken  Lyon's  place  who  had  any  capability,  Springfield  would 
never  have  been  abandoned.  I  do  not  allude  to  the  casualties 
of  the  battle;  they  were  very  severe.  We  were  better  drilled, 
more  hardy,  tough  and  experienced,  than  our  opponents. 
They  were  a  heterogenous  mass  of  good,  bad  and  indifferent. 
They  were  three  or  four  to  one  in  numbers ;  but  in  actual, 
effective  discipline  and  fighting  strength,  and  capacity  for 
hard  work,  they  were  not  much  more  than  our  equals. 

Thrice  armed  is  he  who  hath  his  quarrel  first, 
And  four  times  he  who  gets  his  work  in  first. 

"Few  of  the  First  Iowa  infantry  remain.  It  is  their  pride 
that  Gen.  Lyon  was  killed  while  leading  them.  The  fact 
that  the  regiment  stayed  and  fought  after  their  term  of 
service  was  out,  raised  the  First  regiment  so  high  in  the 
estimation  of  the  State  of  Iowa,  and  made  the  State  so 
proud  of  them,  that  nearly  every  member  was  commissioned 
in  new  regiments,  and  very  many  of  them  fell  in  battles  of  the 
Union,  as  officers,  from  General  down.  At  the  last  reunion 


76  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

only  about  fifty  were  present  —  all  fine-looking,  gray-haired 
gentlemen.  Their  triennial  anniversary  of  meeting  is  August 
10th,  the  date  of  the  battle." 

There  is,  in  this  narrative,  a  melancholy  confession  fre- 
quently made  in  the  confidence  of  their  few  friendships  by 
men  of  General  Lyon's  stamp,  that  they  are  not  able  to  at- 
tract their  fellow-beings,  and  must  be  left  in  solitude  to  com- 
mand them.  Gen.  Lyon  came  of  an  iron  race.  He  was  the 
grand-nephew  of  that  Col.  Knowlton  who  commanded  the 
American  right  wing  at  Bunker  Hill.  He  had  passed  his  life 
in  the  regular  army  of  the  United  States,  and  he  was  not  a 
popular  man  among  his  fellows,  as  his  political  convictions 
widely  differed  from  those  of  the  great  mass  of  officers  in  the 
"old  army.''  He  was  one  of  the  few  men  who  believed  the 
Civil  War  was  coming,  and  who  wished  it  to  come.  He  hated 
the  doctrine  of  disunion;  he  hated,  personally,  the  men  who 
preached  it.  He  despised  the  men  who  lagged  or  hesitated  in 
the  defense  of  the  country.  As  a  soldier,  he  had  no  mercy  on 
himself ;  he  extended  none  to  others.  His  life  and  death  were 
a  tragedy.  He  lived  and  worked  alone;  and,  at  last,  weary, 
wounded,  fearing,  yet  daring  the  worst  —  his  face,  his  hair 
dabbled  in  blood — he  called,  like  Richard,  for  another  horse, 
and  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  men  as  brave  as  he,  rode 
to  instant  death. 

Singularly,  the  most  satisfactory  and  appreciative  notice  I 
have  ever  seen  of  Gen.  Lyon  —  and  so  I  commend  it  to  others 
—  has  been  written  by  an  enemy,  and  one,  too,  who  knew  Gen. 
Lyon,  and  knew  the  full  measure  of  his  hatred  of  the  Confed- 


BATTLE   COENEBS.  77 

eracy  and  all  its  works.  I  speak  of  Colonel  Thomas  L.  Snead, 
for  a  long  time  chief-of-staff  to  General  Sterling  Price,  and 
his  little  book,  "The  Fight  for  Missouri."  In  this  work  will 
be  found  a  study — by  a  man  as  different  from  Gen.  Lyon  in 
lineage,  education,  tastes,  and  convictions,  as  one  man  can 
be  different  from  another — of  this  born-soldier,  whom  he 
thus  describes  as  at  first  sight:  "He  was  now  in  the  forty- 
third  year  of  his  age;  of  less  than  medium  height;  slender 
and  angular;  with  abundant  hair  of  a  sandy  color,  and  a 
coarse,  reddish-brown  beard.  He  had  deep-set  blue  eyes; 
features  that  were  rough  and  homely;  and  the  weather-beaten 
aspect  of  a  man  who  had  seen  much  hard  service  on  the  fron- 
tier." And  this  appreciative  foe  says  of  the  life  and  death 
work  of  Lyon:  "By  wisely  planning,  by  boldly  doing,  and  by 
bravely  dying,  he  had  won  the  fight  for  Missouri." 

It  was  but  a  look  that  we  took  at  Wilson's  Creek  battle-field 
—  one  glance  of  the  eye  covers  that  ground;  but  there  was  time 
to  think  of  Deitzler  and  Mitchell  and  those  who  have  passed 
over  the  river,  and  the  brave  men  and  true,  our  friends  and 
neighbors  who  did  bravely  there,  and  who  are  yet  with  us,  as 
we  trust  they  may  be  for  many  days  to  come.  The  hearts  of 
these  beat  more  proudly  when  the  10th  of  August  comes 
around.  It  was  to  them  a  day  of  triumph,  and  they  get  to- 
gether, some  of  them,  every  year,  at  Atchison  or  Leavenworth, 
and  celebrate  it.  It  makes  no  difference  to  them  that  Sam 
Sturgis  marched  off  the  field:  they  still  believe  that  Wilson's 
Creek  was  the  Union's  victory  and  their  own. 

The  field  is  not  forgotten.  It  has  many  visitors.  It  has 
been  the  scene  of  reunions,  and  let  us  hope  that  some  day  on 


78  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

that  bare  ridge  smitten  by  the  sun  and  the  winds,  there  will 
rise  a  monument,  not  with  that  desolate  word  "Unknown,"  but 
bearing  the  names  of  those  who,  daring  for  duty's  sake,  made 
themselves  known  forever. 

The  end  of  the  war  found  Battle  Corners  desolate.  All 
there  was  to  lose  had  been  lost.  Nearly  every  county  town 
had  been  laid  in  ashes  ;  the  country  was  a  waste.  Like  one 
recovering  from  a  swoon,  first  consciousness,  then  real  life 
and  movement,  was  slow  in  coming.  But  the  bounty  of  Na- 
ture proved  a  restorative.  Certain  lead  mines  had  been 
worked  in  a  rude,  slow  way  for  many  years  —  the  Confederate 
Army,  of  Missouri,  mined  for  their  bullets  at  Granby.  These 
mines  spread,  grew  richer,  and  were  found  to  extend  into  the 
"bloody  angle"  of  Kansas.  Then  coal  began  to  be  sought, 
found,  developed.  No  prospector  ever  starts  for  reported 
washings  or  diggings  quicker  than  the  railroad-builder  starts 
for  a  mining  or  lumber  country.  Railroads  were  driven 
through  the  "Corners"  in  every  direction,  the  "Gulf"  and 
the  "Frisco"  systems  leading.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  the 
Kansas  "corner"  was  to  have  one  system  of  railroads  and  the 
Missouri  "corner"  another,  but  this  idea  was  abandoned  and 
the  State  line  is  now  crossed  at  all  points.  During  the  war 
there  was  scarcely  a  mile  square  that  did  not  hear  at  some 
time  the  sound  of  hostile  guns.  Now  there  is  scarcely  that 
area  in  southwest  Missouri  and  southeastern  Kansas  that  does 
not  hear  the  railroad  whistle.  The  old  towns,  Fort  Scott  and 
Springfield,  commenced  to  grow  and  have  never  ceased  grow- 
ing, and  have  become  centers  of  capital  which  has  aided  the 


BATTLE   COKNEBS.  79 

development  of  all  the  "Corners."  The  ruined  hamlets  of  the 
war-time  grew  as  if  fertilized  by  their  own  ashes,  and  towns 
with  new  names  filled  the  before  uninhabited  intervals.  Last 
to  feel  the  impulse  —  last  to  waken  when  Peace  said,  "I  say 
unto  thee  arise  ! "  was  Arkansas.  Here,  too,  Nature  gave  the 
helping  hand  ;  the  healing  waters  of  Eureka,  made  accessible, 
were  sought  from  afar,  and  furnished  "bold  advertisement." 
The  country  is  yet,  however,  regarded  more  as  a  curiosity  than 
an  investment.  But  the  road  is  open.  It  is  idle  to  say  that 
the  world  does  not  move  when  the  mail  is  carried  every  day 
from  Fayetteville  to  Prairie  Grove  and  Cane  Hill.  We  all 
know  what  they  formerly  raised  in  Arkansas :  they  raise 
apples  now.  At  Prairie  Grove  they  gave  us  "  Shannon  "  apples ; 
at  the  Elkhorn  Tavern  they  brought  forth  an  apple,  red  and 
green,  and  said  it  was  a  native  of  the  battle-field,  an  "Elkhorn 
Pippin."  These  are  the  fruits  of  peace,  more  beautiful  than 
any  that  grew  in  the  Gardens  of  the  Hesperides. 

All  this  may  be  seen.  It  is  but  a  few  hours'  travel  now 
from  Kansas  to  any  of  these  historic  fields.  Now  may  the 
veteran  once  more  and  in  perfect  peace  go  where  "war's  wild 
deadly  blast  was  blown,"  and  muse  in  quiet  on  "all  that  he 
saw,  and  part  of  which  he  was." 


KANSAS  JOURNALISTS— MEN  OF  '57.* 


\7~  ANSAS  had  newspapers  as  soon  as  she  had  anything. 
-L^-  There  was,  to  start  with,  a  race  between  the  two  po- 
litical parties  which  contended  from  the  first  for  the  mastery 
of  the  Territory,  to  establish  a  press  in  Kansas.  The  Pro- 
Slavery,  more  melodiously  called  the  Southern  party,  having 
the  less  distance  to  travel,  won  the  first  heat,  and  the  Leaven- 
worth  Herald,  devoted  to  the  establishment  of  slavery,  was 
the  first  newspaper  issued  in  Kansas.  The  primeval  type- 
sticker  had  a  magnificent  composing-room.  Its  boundaries 
were  the  Missouri  river,  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  the  British  Possessions.  No  smoke-dimmed  ceiling 
stretched  above  him,  but  he  listened  as  he  worked,  to  the 
September  breeze  as  it  rustled  and  rattled  the  leaves  of  a 
great  elm  tree,  which,  extended  its  sheltering  branches  over 
the  laborers  of  the  "  art  preservative."  The  Herald  was 
moved  into  the  first  house  erected  on  the  town-site,  so  a 
printing-office  was  literally  the  beginning  of  the  first  city  of 
Kansas. 

The  pioneer  newspaper  man  of  a  great  State,  one  would 
naturally  suppose,  would  figure  in  history  as  a  marked  and  in- 
teresting character,  but  the  dull,  plain  truth  is  that  our  news- 

*  American  Journalist,  December,  1880^ 
(80) 


KANSAS  JOUBNALISTS.  81 

paper  Daniel  Boone  has  been  pretty  much  lost  in  the  mists 
of  time.  Mr.  William  H.  Adams  was  a  mild-mannered  Ken- 
tuckian,  a  printer  rather  than  an  editor;  one  of  those  who 
cares  not  who  edits  the  papers  of  a  country,  provided  he 
may  attend  to  the  advertisements  and  job-work.  Mr.  Adams 
soon  handed  over  the  gray  goose  quill  to  Colonel  Lucian  J. 
Eastin,  born  in  Nicholasville,  Kentucky,  who  came  to  Kansas, 
however,  from  Missouri,  and  who,  in  the  course  of  human 
events,  returned  to  that  State  to  edit  a  Missouri  newspaper 
for  years,  and  finally  died  old  and  greatly  respected.  Very 
early  in  the  history  of  the  Herald  Col.  Eastin  was  reinforced 
by  a  fiery  young  Virginian,  Mr.  H.  Rives  Pollard,  who  was 
destined  to  exercise  his  pyrotechnical  appetite  on  a  wider  if 
not  hotter  field. 

While  the  Southern  party  gained  a  slight  advantage  in 
point  of  time,  Northern  ingenuity  was  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency, and  very  shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  Leaven- 
worth  Herald  two  Free-State  papers  made  their  appearance 
in  Lawrence,  both,  to  save  time  and  trouble,  printed  in  the 
East — one  at  Medina,  Ohio,  and  the  other  in  Pennsylvania. 
The  Leavenworth  Herald  was  printed  before  it  had  an  office,, 
but  the  Herald  of  Freedom  was  printed  before  it  had  a  town, 
and  was  dated  in  an  uncertain  fashion  at  "Wakarusa,  Kan- 
sas," the  Wakarusa  being  a  creek,  on  the  banks  of  which  the 
prophetic  soul  of  the  editor  believed  a  town  would  arise 
sometime.  The  town  failed  to  materialize,  and  the  second 
issue  of  the  Herald  of  Freedom  was  printed  and  dated  at 
Lawrence. 

The  writer  of  this  chronicle  has   no   disposition  to  draw 

6 


82  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

from  their  "dread  abode"  the  "frailties"  of  the  early  Pro- 
Slavery  leaders  and  politicians  of  Kansas,  but  the  faithful  his- 
torian is  forced  to  say  that  they  utterly  failed  to  grasp  the 
idea  of  the  value  of  the  press.  The  Free-State  party  fully 
comprehended  it,  and  the  Pro-Slavery  press,  such  as  it  was, 
was  speedily  overmatched  in  the  matter  of  numbers,  ability, 
and  circulation.  The  Southern  party  established  the  Leaven- 
worth  Herald,  the  Squatter  Sovereign  at  Atchison,  and  later, 
the  Union  at  Lecompton,  which  was  intended  to  be  to  the 
Territory  of  Kansas  what  the  old  National  Intelligencer  was 
to  the  country.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  little  papers, 
the  names  of  which  are  mercifully  forgotten,  the  papers 
named  above  made  up  the  sum  total  of  the  Southern  side  of 
journalism  in  Kansas.  The  patronage  of  the  Federal  and 
Territorial  governments  went  to  the  Pro-Slavery  papers,  but 
these  never  attained  any  noticeable  circulation  or  influence. 
Probably  the  most  imposing  in  appearance  was  the  Lecomp- 
ton Union,  to  which  Territorial  Governors,  Secretaries,  and 
such  official  personages,  contributed;  the  editor-in-chief  bear- 
ing the  bovine  name  of  General  Brindle.  Brindle  now  finds 
his  green  pastures  and  still  waters  somewhere  back  in  Penn- 
sylvania. 

The  Free-State  papers  sprang  up  everywhere,  and  were 
everywhere  bold  and  alert,  possessing  what  the  Pro-Slavery 
papers  had  not  —  a  backing  outside  of  the  Territory. 

The  most  prominent  of  the  Free-State  papers  for  a  time 
was  the  Herald  of  Freedom;  and,  by  the  way,  the  word  "free- 
dom" and  its  derivatives  was  a  favorite  for  title-lines.  Be- 
sides the  Herald  of  Freedom,  there  was  Prouty's  Freemen's 


KANSAS  JOURNALISTS.  83 

Champion,  at  Prairie  City,  and  so  on  all  around  the  board. 
The  Herald  of  Freedom  was  fortunate  in  its  location.  Law- 
rence was  the  capital  of  the  Free-State  party  and  the  center 
of  stirring  events,  and  the  Herald  waxed  fat.  At  one  period 
it  attained  a  circulation  of  eight  thousand  copies,  which  were 
spread  all  over  the  North ;  and  in  1857  Mr.  George  W.  Brown, 
the  publisher,  brought  the  first  power-press  to  Kansas. 

The  irrepressible  conflict  in  Kansas  brought  to  the  Terri- 
tory correspondents  of  the  great  Eastern  dailies,  notably  the 
New  York  Tribune,  which  was  always  ably  represented.  The 
best  known  member  of  the  Tribune  staff  in  Kansas  was  Wil- 
liam A.  Phillips,  who  fixed  his  residence  in  the  Territory  dur- 
ing the  "troubles,"  has  lived  in  Kansas  ever  since,  and  has 
represented  the  State  in  Congress.  Mr.  Phillips  wrote  num- 
berless letters,  and  collected  the  fruits  of  his  observations  and 
experience  in  a  volume,  "The  Conquest  of  Kansas";  a  mar- 
vel of  rapid  book-making,  written  for  a  Boston  publishing 
house  in  six  weeks.  Another  busy  man  of  the  pen  in  those 
days  was  Richard  J.  Hinton,  a  young  Englishman  who  had 
written  for  many  Eastern  papers  prior  to  coming  to  Kansas, 
and  whose  journalistic  range  still  extends  from  New  York 
to  San  Francisco.  To  the  names  of  Phillips  and  Hinton 
should  be  added  that  of  Albert  D.  Richardson,  who  became  a 
bona  fide  resident  of  the  Territory.  These  men  were  not  mere 
observers,  but  took  an  active  part  in  every  stirring  scene,  and 
always  turned  up  as  secretaries  of  the  Free-State  conventions, 
which  were  held  somewhere  nearly  every  day  in  the  week. 

The  year  1857  settled  the  political,  and  so  the  journalistic, 
future  of  Kansas.  In  the  spring  of  that  year  it  was  estimated 


84  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

that  one  hundred  thousand  Northern  emigrants  came  to  Kan- 
sas, and  virtually  ended  the  controversy.  Free-State  towns 
sprang  up  everywhere,  and  each  had  its  paper  or  papers,  con- 
tending not  for  "  the  old  flag  and  an  appropriation,"  but  for 
free  Kansas  and  the  town-site.  The  "  year  of  grace"  for  Kan- 
sas was  1857..  Besides  the  young  men  who  came  to  perma- 
nently identify  themselves  with  the  Kansas  press  was  an 
army  of  bright  young  fellows,  prompt  for  a  "  scrimmage,"  be 
it  with  Sharps'  rifle,  or  sharp  steel  pen. 

These  edited  papers  here  and  there  betimes,  and  were 
always  ready  with  their  contributions.  A  gayer,  brighter  lot 
of  godfathers  never  attended  the  christening  of  the  journal- 
ism of  a  State.  Phillips,  Hinton  and  Richardson  wrote,  not 
only  for  Eastern  papers,  but  lent  a  helping  hand  to  the  local 
press  also. 

Then  there  was  Richard  Realf,  about  whom  there  was  a 
romantic  story,  to  the  effect  that  he  was  connected  with  the 
family  of  Lord  Byron  ;  there  was  John  Swinton,  then  a  "  jour  " 
printer,  but  who  sat  down  at  the  editor's  pine  table  occa- 
sionally ;  there  was  James  Redpath,  whose  Irish  letters  have 
created  such  a  stir  of  late  years  —  he  started  a  paper  at  Doni- 
phan  called  the  Crusader  of  Freedom  ;  there  was  J.  H.  Kagi, 
a  companion  of  old  John  Brown,  and  a  vigorous  writer.  Since 
the  name  of  old  John  Brown  has  been  mentioned,  it  may  be 
said  that  he  was  not  a  contributor  to  newspapers.  He  came 
and  went,  like  the  Jibbenainosay  in  the  old  story  of  "Nick  of 
the  Woods,"  taking  no  part  in  conventions  or  political  con- 
troversies. The  only  article  believed  to  have  been  contributed 
by  him  to  a  Kansas  newspaper  was  "John  Brown's  Parallels," 
which  was  brought  to  the  Lawrence  Republican  office  by  Kagi. 


KAN 8 AS  JOURNALISTS.  85 

To  go  on  with  the  1857  arrivals:  There  came  a  young 
man  from  Union  College,  New  York,  Mr.  T.  Dwight  Thacher; 
another  young  man  not  long  out  of  Harvard  College,  Mr.  D. 
Webster  Wilder ;  still  another  young  man,  with  a  lively  gait 
and  a  freckled  face,  from  Xenia,  Ohio,  Preston  B.  Plumb  by 
name.  The  old  town  of  Brownsville,  Pennsylvania,  sent  a 
hearty  youth,  not  yet  of  age,  named  John  A.  Martin.  Then 
there  were  the  Murdocks  and  Jacob  Stotler,  and  yet  another 
Ohioan,  as  good  a  printer  as  ever  walked  the  sod,  Sol.  Miller. 
Then  there  was  a  stirring  young  man  from  Rochester,  New 
York,  who  had  visited  Kansas  in  1854,  and  now  came  back  for 
good.  Though  not  to  engage  in  the  newspaper  business  just 
then,  he  was  destined  to  fill  a  large  place  farther  on.  This  was 
Daniel  R.  Anthony.  A  red-headed  boy,  George  W.  Martin, 
also  went  to  work  in  the  Lecompton  Union  office  about  this 
time. 

This  was  the  famous  "1857  crowd,"  who  came  to  stay,  and 
are  here  yet.  They  were  all  young,  as  everybody  in  Kansas 
was  then.  Not  a  man  we  have  mentioned  was  over  thirty 
years  of  age.  They  were  all  ambitious,  and  the  possibilities 
were  wonderful.  The  stories  of  the  printers,  saying  nothing 
of  the  editors  of  that  day,  make  one  think  of  Napoleon's  say- 
ing about  every  French  soldier  carrying  a  marshal's  baton  in 
his  knapsack. 

In  one  issue  of  the  Herald  of  Freedom,  Editor  Brown  ac- 
knowledges the  good  management  of  the  office  during  his 
absence  by  his  foreman,  Mr.  T.  A.  Osborn ;  ex-Foreman 
Osborn  is  now  United  States  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
Brazil. 


86  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

A  history  of  the  "men  of  1857"  is  the  history  of  the  foun- 
dation and  the  erection  of,  say  the  first  story  of  the  Kansas 
journalistic  house;  and  so,  if  the  "gentle  reader  will  go  with 
us  for  a  moment,"  we  will  tell  briefly,  what  became  of  these 
young  fellows. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  which  of  the  set  first  began  to  spoil 
white  paper  in  the  newspaper  line,  neither  is  the  matter  of 
precedence  vital,  but  T.  Dwight  Thacher  was  heard  from  early 
in  the  action.  His  whole  name,  Timothy  Dwight  Thacher,  tells 
the  story  of  his  ancestry,  and  to  some  extent  his  own  story. 
Carefully  educated  in  Alfred  Academy  and  Union  College, 
New  York,  he  had  taken  his  degree  of  A.  B.,  and  had  gone 
back  to  Union  to  get  his  A.M.,  when  he  received  a  "call"  to 
Kansas.  Old  George  W.  Brown's  Herald  of  Freedom  had  be- 
come somewhat  "  withered "  by  custom,  and  an  opposition 
organ  was  to  be  started.  A  couple  of  Mr.  Thacher's  former 
townsmen  sent  for  him  to  engage  in  the  enterprise,  and  the 
young  man  came  and  went  to  work  on  the  Lawrence  Republi- 
can. He  was  not  Saul  among  the  prophets  exactly,  but  rather 
a  prophet  in  a  crowd  of  Sauls.  Those  were  "parlous  times." 
There  was  intense  excitement  all  the  time  and  everywhere, 
and  it  is  feared  that  a  great  deal  of  Eastern-made  religion 
was  lost  overboard  in  crossing  the  Missouri;  but  young  Mr. 
Thacher  continued  to  steer  clear  of  the  soul-and-body-destroy- 
ing  whisky  of  the  period,  avoided  sinful  games  of  every  kind, 
and  yet  bore  his  part  manfully  in  the  stern  conflicts  then 
raging.  He  stayed  by  his  Republican  office,  saw  its  ashes  after 
Quantrill's  cruel  raiders  rode  away  from  stricken  Lawrence, 
went  to  Kansas  City,  labored  amid  the  shocks  of  war  with  a 


KANSAS  JOUBNALISTS.  87 

promising  infant  which  has  grown  to  the  present  Kansas  City 
Journal,  went  thence  to  Philadelphia,  worked  on  the  staid  news- 
papers of  that  city,  and  then,  as  many  a  wanderer  has  done 
since,  came  to  Kansas  again,  and  after  various  changes  found 
himself  in  the  Lawrence  Republican- Journal  office  with  two 
partners,  the  Rev.  Isaac  S.  Kalloch  and  Milton  W.  Reynolds. 
This  was  not  "three  of  a  kind"  by  any  means,  and  the  queer 
combination  broke  up,  and  left  Mr.  Thacher  in  charge  of  the 
paper,  which  still  lives  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Thacher's  eldest 
son,  the  oldest  daily  in  Lawrence,  Mr.  Thacher  sr.  reposing  on 
his  laurels  in  the  comfortable  berth  of  the  State  printership, 
which  we  are  sure  no  man  ought  to  begrudge  him.  To  Mr. 
Thacher  belongs  the  honor  of  having  in  a  rude  time,  and 
amidst  all  sorts  of  trials,  terrors,  privations  and  difficulties, 
preserved  the  language,  the  tastes,  the  manners  and  feelings 
of  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman. 

The  word  "scholar"  brings  up  the  name  of  another  Kansas 
editor  who  came  early,  and  is  still  with  us.  There  is  a  tradi- 
tion in  Kansas  that  old  Dr.  Nott  said  once  that  Thacher  was 
the  most  promising  student  that  had  graduated  from  Union 
College;  and  D.  W.  Wilder  took  the  Franklin  medal  at  the 
Boston  Latin  School,  and  the  first  prize- — the  Bowdoin  gold 
medal  —  at  Harvard.  Then  he  read  law  and  was  admitted  to 
the  Boston  bar,  and,  being  ready  for  a  comfortable  Massa- 
chusetts existence,  gave  it  up  to  live  in  a  little  cottonwood 
Kansas  town,  since  drowned  in  the  Missouri  river,  and  felt 
rewarded  for  the  change,  in  the  society  of  the  boys.  We  be- 
lieve there  was  once  a  law  office  in  Elwood,  but  common  grati- 
tude toHBen  Franklin,  who  had  kindly  left  a  medal  for  him, 


88  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

demanded  that  Wilder  should  go  into  the  newspaper  business, 
and  he  did.  It  was  the  Elwood  Free  Press,  and  Lee  &  Wilder 
ran  it.  Fortune  shuffled  the  cards;  Lee  went  into  the  army, 
grew  to  be  a  very  erect  brigadier  general,  and  then  made  a 
large  amount  of  money  as  State  Printer  of  Louisiana,  and 
now  divides  his  time  between  American  and  European  luxury. 
Wilder  went  to  St.  Joseph,  started  a  freedom  paper  about 
twenty-five  years  too  early,  and  was  rewarded  for  his  exertions 
with  an  indictment.  D.  R.  Anthony,  of  Leavenworth,  thought 
this  a  burning  shame,  and  started  for  Wilder's  benefit  a  news- 
paper which  as  a  grim  joke  was  called  the  Conservative.  Then 
it  was  the  Times- Conservative,  then  the  Times.  After  years  of 
work  in  Leavenworth  there  followed  a  vacation  spent  at  Fort 
Scott  editing  the  Monitor.  Then  divers  years  passed  as  Auditor 
of  State,  when  some  new  ideas  were  introduced  in  the  way  of 
combining  the  editorial  and  official  styles  of  composition  in 
the  annual  reports,  greatly  to  the  delight  of  the  public,  who 
had  never  read  the  reports  before  and  have  never  read  them 
since.  Then  the  old  field  at  St.  Joseph  was  harrowed  over 
with  the  Herald,  and  now  all  the  old  editorial  qualities  are 
displayed  in  the  Hiawatha  World.  There  is  no  neater  workman 
than  Web.  Wilder;  there  is  an  absolute  absence  of  slovenliness. 
In  all  his  notes  there  are  none  counterfeit  and  none  ragged. 
Probably  the  work  done  in  gaining  the  gold  medals  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  it;  but  more  than  that,  the  impress  of  the 
powerful  mind  of  Theodore  Parker,  Wilder's  first  and  last 
pastor.  In  the  matter  of  what  has  been  written  in  books,  Mr. 
Wilder  is  the  State  oracle.  All  the  other  newspaper  men  ask 


KANSAS  JOURNALISTS.  89 

him  to  kindly  find  the  page  and  verse,  and  no  son  of  Kansas 
has  loved  his  State  with  a  more  chivalrous  devotion. 

As  Leavenworth  was  the  starting-point  of  the  first  weekly 
paper  in  Kansas,  so  it  -was  the  birthplace  of  the  first  perma- 
nent daily,  the  Leavenworth  Times.  The  limits  allotted  to  an 
article  like  this  might  be  exceeded  in  recounting  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  morning  journalism  in  Leavenworth ;  there  have 
been  papers  and  papers,  but  the  ever-present  newspaper  fact 
has  been  the  Leavenworth  Times,  and  for  many  a  year  the 
Times  has  been  Col.  D.  R.  Anthony  and  Col.  D.  R.  Anthony  has 
been  the  Times.  Unlike  Thacher,  Wilder,  and  others,  Col.  An- 
thony was  not  educated  for  nor  bred  to  the  profession,  but 
started  his  first  newspaper,  the  Leavenworth  Conservative,  as 
has  been  said,  with  the  chivalrous  intention  of  making  a  place 
for  Web.  Wilder,  who  he  thought  had  received  hard  measure 
and  unjust  treatment  at  St.  Joseph.  Col.  Anthony  assumed 
the  ownership,  publishership  and  editorship  of  the  Leaven- 
worth Times  in  1871,  the  paper  resuming,  after  years,  the 
name  it  started  with  in  1858.  Col.  D.  R.  Anthony  has  been  the 
Caesar  of  Leavenworth  morning  journalism,  and  his  motto  has 
been  Times  aut  nullus.  He  has  captured  and  taken  into  camp 
any  given  number  of  opposition  morning  papers,  and  now 
not  only  "  rules  the  roost,"  but  occupies  it  alone.  Col.  Anthony 
is  no  "slave  of  the  lamp"  ;  he  has  never  written  a  regularly 
organized  "leader"  in  his  life.  He  is  an  intensely  active  cit- 
izen of  Leavenworth,  who  literally  runs  —  not  walks  —  a  news- 
paper. He  writes  when  he  has  something  to  say,  and  for  the 
rest  employs  assistants  ;  but  these  so  perfectly  reflect  his  ideas 
and  modes  of  expression,  that  the  Times  is  one  of  the  few 


90  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Kansas  papers  that  know  no  difference  in  their  general  tone, 
whether  the  "head"  is  at  home  or  abroad.  And  here  it  may 
be  said,  that  in  Kansas  newspaper  offices,  as  a  rule,  the  dis- 
tinctions of  editor-in-chief,  managing  editor,  city  editor,  dra- 
matic editor,  and  so  on,  have  not  come  into  vogue ;  all  hands 
may  be  classified  as  "  general  utility."  It  is  not  many  years 
since  daily  papers  of  considerable  circulation  and  influence 
were  run  by  two  men,  and  an  evening  paper  has  been  known 
to  get  along  for  months  with  one.  The  exact  subdivision  of 
labor  known  further  east  has  yet  to  be  introduced.  To  return 
to  Col.  Anthony,  he  pervades  all  the  pages,  and  every  line  of 
his  paper.  It  is  Anthony  all  over.  It  is  needless  to  say,  that 
energy  such  as  his  has  met  its  reward.  The  Times  is  a  valuable 
newspaper  property,  and  its  voice  is  potent.  Like  the  war- 
horse  in  Job,  the  Times  hears  the  sound  of  the  battle  afar  off, 
and  usually  meets  the  battle  itself  half-way,  yet  it  seems  to 
grow  a  little  stronger  with  each  fight.  It  stands  by  itself 
among  Kansas  newspapers  in  its  singular  personal  character. 
It  is  the  voice  of  one  man,  and  that  man  of  rare  force,  cour- 
age, pertinacity,  and  enterprise. 

Probably  no  two  editors  in  Kansas  present  a  more  marked 
contrast  in  personal  appearance  and  in  character  than  D.  R. 
Anthony  and  John  A.  Martin,  of  the  Atchison  Champion. 
Both  men  cast  in  their  lot  in  Kansas  at  the  same  time,  both 
ardently  espoused  the  Free-State  cause,  both  entered  the  army 
and  rose  to  be  field  officers,  both  have  adhered  without  "  vari- 
ableness or  shadow  of  turning"  to  the  same  political  doc- 
trines; both  have  given  themselves  to  Kansas  with  that  ultra 
devotion  which  used  to  be  characteristic  of  South  Carolinians 


KANSAS  JOURNALISTS.  91 

in  regard  to  their  State,  and  yet  have  arrived  at  similar  ends 
by  entirely  different  processes  of  thought  and  action.  Singu- 
larly, too,  the  fiery  Anthony  is  descended  from  a  family  of 
Quakers,  while  the  quiet  and  conservative  Martin  has  in  his 
veins  the  unmixed  blood  of  the  pugnacious  and  hard-headed 
Scotch-Irish,  who  were  the  pioneers  of  western  Pennsylvania. 
Col.  Martin  was  one  of  the  company  of  young  men  hereto- 
fore spoken  of,  who  began  to  make  their  mark  in  Kansas 
affairs  in  1857.  He  came,  a  boy,  from  the  staid  old  town 
of  Brownsville,  Pennsylvania,  a  practical  printer,  and  during 
its  brief  existence  he  labored  on  Redpath's  Crusader;  then 
he  came  into  possession  of  the  Squatter  Sovereign,  a  pro- 
slavery  gun  which  had  been  captured  and  turned  on  its 
former  supports,  and  which,  after  a  few  changes  of  name,  be- 
came the  Champion,  and  claims  to  be  the  Kansas  paper  which 
has  existed  longest  under  the  same  name  and  management. 
In  all  the  years  since  1858  the  Atchison  Champion  has  re- 
ceived the  daily  attention  of  its  present  editor,  save  during 
his  four  years  of  service  in  the  army,  and  has  been  character- 
ized by  the  great  quality  of  steadfastness.  It  has  steered  by 
three  stars:  the  prosperity  of  the  city  of  Atchison,  the  glori- 
fication of  the  State  of  Kansas,  and  the  maintenance  absolute 
of  the  organization  and  discipline  of  the  Republican  party. 
Atchison,  Kansas,  Republicanism  —  these  form  the  Champion's 
trinity.  For  twenty-five  years  this  Apostles'  Creed  has  been 
repeated.  The  utterance  has  been  calm,  steady,  uniform,  even 
solemn.  The  Champion  has  never  recognized  a  personal 
enemy;  the  existence  of  such  a  person  has  been  ignored. 
Every  shot  in  the  locker  has  been  used  to  bombard  in  a 


92  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

steady  and  uninterrupted  fire,  those  who  presumed  to  vilify, 
not  the  Champion,  but  Atchison;  to  call  Kansas  "too  dry,"  or 
propose  "foreign  levy  or  domestic  quarrel"  to  the  injury  of 
the  Republican  party.  The  Champion  has  justly  acquired  a 
reputation  for  absolute  sincerity  and  solidity.  It  has  made 
no  "wild  breaks,"  but  has  kept  on  its  steady  way,  and  its  edi- 
tor has  grown  with  the  growth  of  the  three  objects  nearest 
his  heart  —  his  city,  his  State,  and  his  party.  He  has  been 
honored  by  all  three,  but  those  who  know  the  fiber  of  the 
man's  nature  do  not  doubt  but  he  would  have  stood  firmly  in 
the  ranks  had  he  never  been  called  to  the  front  for  promotion 
or  preferment. 

The  veteran  of  the  Kansas  weekly  press  is  Sol.  Miller,  of 
the  Troy  Chief,  started  in  1857,  in  the  same  county  as  the 
White  Cloud  Chief.  Mr.  Miller  came  to  the  flourishing  Mis- 
souri river  port  of  White  Cloud,  a  young  man  from  Ohio, 
bringing  his  printing-office  with  him.  While  his  name  is 
known  to  every  Kansan,  few  men  have  taken  the  Kansas  pub- 
lic less  into  their  confidence  as  regards  matters  of  personal 
history.  None  of  the  numerous  works  devoted  to  Kansas 
biography  have  contained  even  a  roughly-drawn  sketch  of 
Sol.  Miller.  This  much  may  be  inferred:  That  he  went  to 
school  when  spelling  was  taught  in  the  thoroughly  old- 
fashioned  manner,  and  that  he  spelled  everybody  down;  that 
he  "  served  his  time "  in  the  days  when  an  apprenticeship  to 
the  printing  business  meant  three  to  five  years  without  an 
idle  moment;  and  further,  that  he  was  brought  up  in  a  coun- 
try entirely  American,  where  traditions  of  the  war  of  1812 
and  tales  of  the  atrocities  of  the  allied  British  and  Indians 


KANSAS  JOURNALISTS.        .  93 

were  still  told  by  the  evening  fire.  Sol.  Miller  is  an  Ameri- 
can in  every  fiber  and  every  bone.  He  fills  his  first  page  with 
stories  of  American  valor  in  ancient  and  modern  days.  His 
selections  of  poetry  are  all  from  the  good  old  American  au- 
thors, and  he  excels  Allibone  himself  in  his  knowledge  of  all 
the  American  writers  of  prose  and  poetry.  He  is  a  recognized 
authority.  Given  any  old  song,  and  Sol.  Miller  can  recall  the 
name  of  the  singer,  no  matter  how  long  ago  he  ceased  to  sing. 
He  observes  all  the  revolutionary  anniversaries,  and  furnishes, 
as  the  day  returns,  a  great  store  of  appropriate  "  reprint." 
He  is  full  of  country  lore;  knows  all  the  signs  of  an  approach- 
ing hard  winter,  including  the  "goose  bone,"  and  never  fails 
to  note  the  coming  of  "ground-hog  day."  The  teachings  of 
the  old-time  printer  who  first  "taught  him  the  boxes,"  still 
remain.  The  Troy  Chief,  with  its  wide  columns,  its  clean 
face,  and  its  marvelous  correctness,  is  a  newspaper  among  a 
thousand.  Very  savage,  yet  funny  withal,  are  the  columns  of 
the  Chief.  The  victim  swears,  yet  the  unfeeling  public  is 
prone  to  laugh  at  the  sudden  and  overwhelming  nature  of  the 
catastrophe.  Few  men  are  so  seldom  seen  abroad.  Editorial 
conventions  and  excursions  and  merry-makings  delight  him 
not.  The  object  of  his  existence  is  to  get  the  Chief  out  on 
time.  In  his  office  at  Troy,  with  his  sleeves  rolled  up,  and 
surrounded  by  such  stacks  and  piles  of  newspapers  and  such 
boxes,  drawers  and  barrels  of  clippings  as  grace  no  other 
printing-office  in  this  Western  country,  may  be  found  old  Sol. 
Miller;  queer,  bright,  quaint,  original,  a  man  of  old-world  vir- 
tues, yet  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  moving  hands  of  Time's  dial. 
Mention  was  made  earlier  in  this  sketch  of  an  emigrant  of 


94  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

1857  from  Xenia,  Ohio  —  Preston  B.  Plumb.  This  gentleman 
was  one  of  the  pioneers  of  what  may  be  called  interior  jour- 
nalism in  Kansas.  Newspaper  men  till  this  time  had  not 
wandered  far  from  the  border,  but  he  "marched  into  the 
bowels  of  the  land"  to  the  new  town  of  Emporia,  and  started 
a  newspaper  whereof  he  was  editor-in-chief,  with  the  accom- 
plished Richard  J.  Hinton  as  associate,  and  an  Ohio  youth, 
Jacob  Stotler,  as  foreman.  Mr.  Plumb,  however,  found  other 
paths  leading  more  directly  to  fortune  than  journalism.  He 
took  to  law,  land  trades,  banking,  with  an  occasional  dash 
into  politics,  and  is  at  present  the  junior  United  States  Sen- 
ator from  Kansas. 

There  remains  of  the  group  of  young  men  of  1857  I  started 
out  to  notice,  but  General  Brindle's  whilom  red-headed  ap- 
prentice, George  W.  Martin.  He  came  later  to  the  front 
than  the  others,  in  his  own  proper  person,  as  editor  of  the 
Junction  City  Union.  In  this  gentleman  the  fighting  and 
Presbyterian  blood  of  imported  Ulster  runs  with  quicker  flow 
than  in  the  veins  of  the  other  Western-Pennsylvania  Martin. 
The  reflection  of  the  editor's  head  casts  its  radiance  all  over 
the  columns  of  the  Union.  Like  Miller,  an  elegant  printer,  as 
publisher  of  the  Union  Martin  has  always  kept  his  paper  in 
the  group  of  half  a  dozen  very  handsome  weeklies  in  Kansas, 
which  may  be  styled  the  belles  of  the  newspaper  ball.  The 
same  cultivated  taste  for  the  typography  characterized  Mar- 
tin's unprecedentedly  long  service  as  State  Printer.  The 
dingy  old  "pub.  docs."  of  the  Eastern  States  were  as  tat- 
tered rags  beside  a  silk  gown,  when  compared  with  the  books 
which  came  from  the  State  printing-house  in  Martin's  time. 


'  KANSAS  JOURNALISTS.  95 

He  it  was  who  (outside  of  these)  published  Wilder's  "Annals 
of  Kansas,"  the  handsomest,  most  useful  and  worst-paying 
book  ever  printed  in  this  Western  country.  The  Junction 
City  Union  has  the  same  identity  with  its  editor  possessed  by 
the  Leavenworth  Times.  Anybody  picking  it  up  and  reading 
an  article  on  some  one  of  the  prevalent  frauds  —  for  which 
Martin  has  invented  the  name  of  "hoodoos" — can  hear  the 
sharp,  jerky  voice  of  the  writer  directly  behind  him  as  he 
reads.  The  editor  of  the  Union  is  always  outspoken  to  the 
verge  of  audacity,  yet,  perhaps  because  the  people  admire 
the  fortiler  in  re  rather  than  the  suaviter  in  modo,  or  because 
the  stars  have  said  that  old  Blair  county  is  bound  to  win,  few 
men  in  Kansas  have  been  more  successful  in  their  ambitions 
than  George  W.  Martin. 

Some  years  ago,  some  low-spirited  Kansas  editor  uttered 
a  lament  over  the  insufficient  rewards  of  journalistic  labor 
in  this  State  ;  but  taking  this  little  group  of  toilers  at  the 
newspaper  oar,  they  seem  to  have  labored  to  some  purpose 
in  the  way  of  attaining  honors,  if  not  fortune.  Taking  them 
in  their  order,  Thacher  is  at  present  State  Printer ;  Wilder 
has  been  Surveyor-General  of  Kansas  and  Nebraska,  and  two 
terms  Auditor  of  State ;  Anthony  has  filled  high  positions, 
civil  and  military  ;  John  A.  Martin  commanded  a  fine  regiment 
during  the  war,  has  been  Mayor  and  Postmaster  of  his  town, 
member  from  Kansas  of  every  National  Republican  conven- 
tion, and  is  at  present  Secretary  of  the  National  Republican 
Committee ;  Plumb,  the  founder  of  the  Emporia  News,  is  in 
the  United  States  Senate ;  Stotler  has  filled  various  official 
positions,  State  and  Federal ;  George  Martin  served  as  State 


96  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Printer  four  terms,  and  has  held  office  almost  continuously 
since  he  came  to  man's  estate.  Sol.  Miller  alone  has  been 
distinguished  from  the  others  in  the  matter  of  this  sort  of 
recognition,  although  he  has  reluctantly  left  the  Chief  office 
several  times  to  represent  his  county  in  one  branch  or  other 
of  the  Legislature. 

Some  of  the  old-timers  have  not  been  so  fortunate  —  John 
Speer,  who  brought  printed  sheets  from  Medina,  Ohio,  to  start 
the  first  newspaper  at  Lawrence,  and  Prouty,  big  in  heart 
and  waistband,  whose  Freemen's  Champion  was  among  the 
first.  Both  have  had  various  vicissitudes,  but  have  never  en- 
tirely given  up  the  newspaper  ship,  and  are  always  considered 
shipmates. 

In  most  new  States,  dominant  journalism  usually  begins 
and  continues  at  the  State  capital,  but  Topeka  lagged  some- 
what in  this  respect,  regularly  issued  daily  newspapers  at  the 
capital  not  dating  farther  back  than  1868.  Prior  to  this  a 
respectable,  though  not  especially  brilliant  weekly  press  had 
been  maintained,  the  pioneers  in  the  business  being  the 
brothers  Ross,  from  Wisconsin.  One  of  the  brothers  later 
became  a  United  States  Senator. 

With  the  beginning  of  daily  journalism  in  Topeka  came  to 
Kansas  one  of  the  second  generation  of  Kansas  journalists, 
taking  the  men.  of  1857  as  the  first  —  Henry  King,  now  of  the 
St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat.  The  other  editors  whose  names 
have  been  mentioned  in  this  sketch  came  into  the  profession 
from  college,  or  from  business  life,  or  from  the  composing- 
room,  but  Henry  King  belongs  to  a  new  school  who  are  news- 
paper writers  from  the  beginning.  If  he  did  not  "lisp  in  num- 


KANSAS  JOUENALISTS.  97 

bers,"  he  editorialized  in  petticoats.  His  first  essays  in  writing 
were  like  those  of  Benjamin  West  in  painting.  Though  not 
classically  educated  like  Wilder,  Thacher,  and  others,  he  has 
carried  the  art  or  science  of  word-handling  to  a  higher  pitch 
than  any  other  Kansas  writer  in  any  field.  No  word-mason 
among  us  has  polished  and  fitted  each  stone  in  his  structure 
as  he. 

To  write  with  some  is  recreation,  with  many  a  business, 
with  others  the  effect  of  occasional  inspiration,  but  with  him 
it  is  an  art,  like  music,  or  painting,  or  acting.  His  thought- 
ful devotion  to  form  does  not  run  into  pedantry  or  finical 
work-picking,  but  is  the  result  of  the  man's  constitutional 
nicety  and  daintiness  of  mind,  which  betrays  itself  even  in  the 
clear,  legible  and  peculiar  handwriting  in  manuscript  which 
knows  no  "outs,"  "doublets,"  blots,  or  interlineations.  He 
alone,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  of  all  the  bright  company  of 
writers  in  active  service  in  Kansas,  has  developed  the  patience 
and  polish  of  a  magazinist,  and  has  gained  for  the  State  a 
hearing  in  the  Century  and  other  leading  monthlies.  His  work 
in  this  line  has  been  pictures  of  Kansas  life  and  scenery,  small 
as  to  canvas,  but  careful  in  drawing  and  striking  in  coloring. 
The  fault  of  these,  if  a  gentle  criticism  may  be  allowed,  is  a 
certain  sombreness,  which  comes  from  the  writer's  rather  re- 
served and  solitary  ways  of  life,  and  an  aversion  to  the  hustle 
and  hurly-burly  of  the  crowd.  But,  for  his  own  work  and  for 
his  example,  which  has  taught  young  writers  that  what  is  worth 
doing  at  all  is  worth  doing  well,  he  has  deserved  well  of  Kan- 
sas. His  newspaper  work  in  Kansas  has  been  done  on  the  old 
Kansas  State-Record,  now  dead  ;  on  the  Commonwealth,  and  last 


98  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

on  the  Capital.  He  was  also  the  editor  during  the  first  bril- 
liant year  of  its  existence,  of  the  Kansas  Magazine,  now  a 
bright  memory  in  Kansas. 

A  notice  of  journalism  in  Topeka  would  be  incomplete 
without  a  few  words  concerning  F.  P.  Baker,  of  the  Common- 
wealth, the  "Father  Baker,"  of  the  Kansas  newspapers  ;  the  best 
abused  and  most  sought  after  of  all  the  fraternity  ;  the  of ten- 
est  aggravated  and  most  uniformly  cheerful  of  Kansas  news- 
paper men.  Every  young  cub,  just  starting  in  the  "withering" 
line  of  business,  shies  his  brickbat  at  "Old  Baker,"  and  as 
soon  as  said  cub  goes  to  Topeka  for  the  first  time  he  hastens 
to  see  the  placid  and  white-haired  object  of  his  assault,  to  be 
furnished  with  theater  tickets  and  other  luxuries  of  the  season. 
Malice  is  not  in  the  old  man's  heart,  and  when,  as  president  of 
the  State  Editorial  Association,  he  starts  his  quill-driving 
flock  on  an  excursion,  he  treats  with  equal  parental  kindness 
the  good,  bad  and  indifferent,  the  grateful  and  responsive,  the 
evil  and  the  unthankful.  A  great  store  of  shrewdness  is  con- 
cealed in  that  queer  white  head  and  kindness  in  that  often 
misunderstood  heart.  Without  making  any  pretensions  as 
a  writer,  he  expresses  his  views  only  on  subjects  in  which  he 
feels  an  interest,  being  incapable  of  the  so-many-columns-a- 
day  business ;  and  when  it  is  done  the  effect  reminds  one  of 
a  log  "jam  ;"  it  may  look  rough,  but  it  is  strong  and  cannot 
be  altered,  revised,  or  made  over.  Like  several  other  Kan- 
sans,  he  has  tried  his  hand  at  writing  letters  from  Europe, 
and  while  no  publisher  will  ever  bring  out  these  "  Tales  of  a 
Traveler "  in  blue  backs  and  gilt  edges,  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
they  contain  more  facts  than  forty  of  the  average  tourists 


KANSAS  JOUBNALISTS.  99 

get  hold  of.  Mr.  Baker  has  made  the  Commonwealth  a  valuable 
newspaper  property;  and  has  been  aided  in  this  work  by  his 
sons,  Mr.  N.  R.  Baker,  as  business  manager,  and  Clifford  C. 
Baker,  as  associate  editor,  more  especially  in  charge  of  the 
city  department. 

Probably  none  of  the  publishers  who  have  tried  to  build 
up  newspapers  at  Topeka  have  yet  attained  to  their  ideal  of 
a  "State  paper,"  though  heaven  knows  that  money  enough  has 
been  sunk  in  the  experiment;  yet  it  is  probable  that  the  Com- 
monwealth and  Capital  foreshadow  what  is  to  be  for  many 
years  to  come.  The  morning  papers  of  Topeka  have  always 
kept  ahead  of  their  city  in  the  matter  of  growth,  and  fully  kept 
pace  with  the  State. 

The  evening  press  of  Kansas  just  now  is  getting  firmly  on 
its  feet,  and  is  beginning  to  be  seen,  heard,  and  felt.  Of  the 
evening  journalists  of  Kansas,  the  file-leaders  at  present  are 
Edward  W.  Howe,  of  the  Atchison  Globe,  and  Alex.  Butts,  of 
the  Emporia  News.  Mr.  Howe  for  a  long  time,  while  not  ex- 
actly hiding  his  light  under  a  bushel,  limited  his  illumination 
to  the  personal  and  local  affairs  of  a  little  city,  thus  dwarfing 
for  a  time  his  really  great  powers.  But  of  late  he  has  given 
the  world  a  "touch  of  his  quality"  in  his  "Story  of  a  Country 
Town;"  full  of  rather  sad  philosophy,  yet  keen  and  powerful 
in  its  description  and  analysis  of  human  character,  and  per- 
fectly novel  in  its  scene.  This  book  is  acknowledged  to  be 
the  first  produced  in  JKansas  which  possesses  more  than  a 
local  or  provincial  interest,  and  which  can  be  read  with  equal 
pleasure  and  profit  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri  and  the 
Ganges. 


100  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

The  Salt  Lake  Tribune,  the  leading  Gentile  paper  in  Utah, 
was  started  by  Prescott,  Lockley  and  others  —  Leavenworth 
men.  New-Mexican  journalism  was  sired  by  imported  Kansas  ? 
and  on  the  Coast,  the  good  Hugh  Burke,  Somers,  Creighton 
and  others,  who  drew  their  first  newspaper  breath  in  Kansas, 
have  labored  long  and  well.  Of  course  Missouri  has  often 
borrowed  from  her  next-door  neighbor ;  Hume,  of  Leaven- 
worth,  went  years  ago  to  St.  Louis,  and  Henry  King  and  John 
Coulter  migrated  thitherward  of  late ;  and  so  they  go,  both 
east  and  west,  but  as  the  descendants  of  the  Aztecs  look  for 
the  return  of  Montezuma,  so  we  who  remain  look  for  the  re- 
turning of  all  who  have  gone  away.  No  Kansan,  such  is  the 
Kansan's  belief,  ever  forswears  his  allegiance  to  his  State.  All 
things  considered,  what  may  be  called  the  newspaper  popula- 
tion has  been  permanent  —  this  has  been  shown  in  the  brief 
sketch  here  given  of  the  men  of  '57;  and  so  we  believe  that 
some  day,  as  the  State  grows  strong  and  rich,  and  more 
mindful  of  the  deserts  of  her  literary  sons,  "Kicking  Bird" 
will  permanently  perch  in  some  Kansas  tree,  and  the  Burkes, 
and  Skiff,  and  King,  and  Coulter,  and  Barlingame,  and  more, 
who  though  not  forgotten  cannot  be  named  here,  will  put  their 
hands  to  the  plow  again  in  once  familiar  fields. 


THE  foregoing  was  all  true  when  it  was  written,  but  in  the 
time  that  has  elapsed  since  it  appeared — short  as  it  seems  — 
there  have  been  many  changes. 

In  a  general  way  it  may  be  said  that  the  sun  has  continued 
to  shine  on  the  "men  of  '57." 


KANSAS  JOURNALISTS.  101 

To  call  the  roll:  T.  Dwight  Thacher  has  served  his  time  as 
State  Printer  and  crossed  the  divide  that  separates  youth  from 
age,  and  is  working  down  the  slope  in  peace  and  comfort,  like 
the  whilom  "Thane  of  Cawdor,"  a  "prosperous  gentleman." 
He  no  longer  writes  or  prints  for  others  to  read,  but  reads  — 
not  now  harried  or  worried  —  the  best  that  others  have  writ- 
ten or  are  writing. 

Web.  Wilder  —  it  sounds  better  that  way  —  is  now  State 
Superintendent  of  Insurance;  and  his  official  themes  are  great 
ones,  being  "Home"  and  "Life."  He  issues  reports  which 
retain  their  juices;  he  does  not  believe  in  desiccated  literature 
in  any  department.  Those  who  know  him  best  of  course  en- 
joy the  reports  the  most.  They  read  him  in  his  works  and  are 
not  surprised  when  they  find  traces  of  some  good  story  in  the 
midst  of  grave  official  statements  and  admonitions.  He  re- 
tains his  interest  in  the  Hiawatha  World,  and  writes  edito- 
rials, usually  in  the  guise  of  letters"  from  Topeka,  characterized 
by  all  the  old  qualities  —  precision,  English  undefiled,  humor, 
and  above  all,  what  may  be  called  "interestingness." 

The  most  startling  change  of  circumstances  has  been  made 
in  the  case  of  Col.  D.  R.  Anthony,  whose  name  no  longer  ap- 
pears at  the  head  of  the  Leavenworth  Times.  He  is  reported 
as  a  "gentle  shepherd,"  looking  after  his  flocks  and  herds  at 
Huron  and  elsewhere.  Absolutely  the  last  newspaper  item 
concerning  him  was  something  about  a  carp  pond  he  was  to 
start  at  Huron.  Nobody  thinks  that  any  bushel  ever  con- 
structed will  permanently  hide  Colonel  Anthony's  light.  He 
will  return  again. 

Col.  John  A.  Martin,  since  his  name  was  set  down  in  our 


102  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

"brief  chronicle  and  abstract,"  has  served  two  terms  as  Gov- 
ernor of  Kansas.  He  took  into  the  executive  office  his  old 
editorial  habits,  and  it  has  been  well  said  of  him  that  while 
he  held  the  office  the  governorship  was  well  edited.  He  prob- 
ably left  in  the  records  of  the  office,  in  the  shape  of  every 
form  of  written  composition,  more  than  any  four  of  his  pred- 
ecessors put  together.  It  was  "good  copy"  too,  such  as  re- 
joices the  printer's  heart.  His  name  all  the  while  remained 
at  the  head  of  the  Champion,  and  to  the  Champion  he  has 
returned. 

"Father  Baker"  is  still  "Father  Baker,"  only  more  so. 
The  Commonwealth  has  been  merged  with  the  Capital,  and 
"Father  Baker"  is  out  of  the  newspaper  business  and  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  — in  fact,  they  had  ceased, 
pretty  much,  before  he  made  the  change.  He  looks  after  his 
"  patents,"  of  which  he  furnishes  a  great  store,  and  visits 
every  day  the  Senate  and  House  —  he  is  now  the  oldest  legis- 
lative reporter  in  Kansas  —  and  sits  at  the  reporters'  table 
and  talks  to  the  boys,  and  tells  them  how  it  is  done;  and  if 
anything  particular  is  to  be  done,  he  gives  them  "a  pointer." 

George  W.  Martin  has  made  a  great  change.  After  twenty- 
seven  years  of  residence  at  Junction  City,  he  has  "pulled  up" 
and  gone  to  Wyandotte,  which  he  has  driven  everybody  in  the 
State  into  calling  Kansas  City,  Kansas.  They  said  they  would 
not  do  it,  but  a  red-headed  man  must  have  his  way.  The 
Kansas  City,  Kansas,  Gazette  is  the  transplanted  Junction 
City  Union.  He  did  not  succeed  in  making  a  great  me- 
ropolis  of  Junction  City,  but,  as  Napoleon  said,  somewhere, 


KANSAS  JOUENALISTS.  103 

"We  have  lost  one  battle,  but  there  is  time  enough  to  gain 
another." 

Changeless  amid  change  has  remained  Sol.  Miller.  It  is 
still  the  Troy  Chief,  and  still  "old  Sol."  He  wrote  a  long  arti- 
cle, lately,  with  the  preface  that  it  would  describe  the  meanest 
thing  made  up  to  date,  viz.:  Man.  But  it  is  very  doubtful  if 
he  believes  this;  if  it  is  his  rule,  he  allows  many  exceptions. 

Of  the  others  mentioned,  Henry  King  is  still  with  the  Globe- 
Democrat;  Clifford  C.  Baker,  aforetime  mentioned  as  "local" 
of  the  Commonwealth,  is  State  Printer  —  for  the  second  time; 
Ed.  Howe  writes  more  stories,  and  edits  the  Atchison  Globe; 
Alex.  Butts  does  the  "paragraphed  Kansas"  in  the  shining 
Kansas  City  Star;  Stotler  has  changed  his  base  of  operations 
from  Emporia  to  Wellington. 

The  record,  considering  what  a  world  of  change  this  is,  is 
fairly  satisfactory,  save  that  those  who  went  away  have  not 
come  back  to  us  —  Reynolds,  who  has  settled  at  Geuda 
Springs,  being  the  only  exception. 

— As  we  write  these  last  words  comes  the. sad  news  that 
Salmon  S.  Prouty  is  dead  ;  the  first  of  the  "  men  of  '57  "  men- 
tioned in  this  sketch  to  pass  away.  He  was  among  the  first  to 
come ;  the  first  to  go  where  all  must  follow,  for  one  sound  is 
always  heard  somewhere  in  the  world  —  it  is  the  tolling  bell. 


JIM  LANE. 


THE  announcement  may  affect  old  Kansans  like  hearing 
an  American  say  that  he  never  heard  of  George  Wash- 
ington, bat  the  writer  hereof  never  saw  Jim  Lane.  He  was 
dead  and  buried  long  years  before  the  undersigned  ever  saw 
Kansas  as  a  resident. 

While  in  the  confession  business,  the  "author"  must  still 
further  humiliate  himself  by  saying  that  until  he  came  to 
Kansas  he  had  never  heard  much  of  Jim  Lane,  although  he 
took  a  burning  interest  as  a  boy  in  all  that  related  to  the 
Kansas  struggle,  or,  more  properly,  the  Missouri-Kansas 
struggle,  for  it  takes  two  to  make  a  struggle. 

This  fact  is  significant  as  showing  how  utterly  "Kansan" 
Lane  was.  He  went  about  much ;  he  died  a  Senator  of  the 
United  States.  He  had  achieved  some  fame,  or  notoriety,  call 
it  what  you  will,  before  he  came  to  Kansas,  but  after  all  he 
was  "Jim  Lane  of  Kansas."  He  was,  in  the  phrase  invented 
by  Web.  Wilder,  and  which  comes  in  mighty  handy,  "One  of 
our  things." 

All  knowledge,  then,  of  the  "subject  of  our  sketch"  is  de- 
rived at  "second  hand,"  and  is  made  up  from  the  impressions 
of  other  people.  These  impressions  have,  it  is  but  just  to 
say,  been  diligently  sought  for.  Lane,  whatever  else  he  may 
have  been,  was  the  most  original,  and  so  the  most  interesting 

(104) 


JIM  LANE.  105 

human  being  who  has  figured  in  Kansas  affairs;  and  he  would 
be  a  dull  Kansas  news-gatherer  who  did  not  listen  with  in- 
terest to  any  reminiscences  concerning  him. 

The  main  thing,  however,  to  be  observed  in  giving  the  re- 
sult of  these  impressions  to  the  public,  is  to  maintain,  without 
absolutely  going  to  sleep,  a  severe  impartiality.  To  go  any- 
where near  the  old  Lane-Robinson  fight,  is  like  smoking  a 
cigar  in  a  powder  magazine.  A  mild-mannered  professor  in 
the  State  University  tried  it  not  long  ago,  and  was  blown  clear 
out  of  the  State  by  the  explosion.  To  change  the  simile,  no 
flowers  bloomed  for  that  Spring.  To  disarm  such  criticism 
in  advance,  the  writer  may  repeat  that  he  never  saw  Lane, 
and  that  he  has  been  the  personal  friend  of  Governor  Robin- 
son for  eighteen  years,  and  still  regards  him  across  the  deep 
ditch  of  politics  with  sadness  but  affection. 

Cords  of  printed  matter  have  in  the  last  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury been  piled  up  about  Lane,  but  it  is  for  the  most  part  dry 
reading.  Stories  about  Lane,  like  the  doubtful  class  of  narra- 
tives known  as  "man  stories,"  lose  their  point  in  print.  He 
who  would  resurrect  the  "Grim  Chieftain"  from  the  books, 
newspapers  and  manuscripts  of  the  State  Historical  Society, 
will  fail.  He  will  obtain  nothing  more  satisfactory  there  than 
a  dry  and  eyeless  mummy.  The  only  really  graphic,  moving 
sketch  the  writer  has  ever  read  of  Jim  Lane  appeared  in  one  of 
the  minor  magazines — Lippincott's,  perhaps  —  over  the  signa- 
ture of  "Jacob  Stringfellow."  It  was  given  Kansas  circulation 
in  the  Topeka  Daily  State  Record,  then  under  the  accomplished 
editorship  of  Capt.  Henry  King,  but  which  years  ago  ascended 
the  tin  tube  around  which  the  woodbine  twines  its  graceful 


106  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

tendrils.  Upon  this  sketch  Hon.  Sidney  Clarke,  a  strong  par- 
tisan of  Lane's,  drew  extensively  in  the  preparation  of  a 
lecture  on  Lane  and  his  times,  and  yet  it  was  not  all  com- 
plimentary to  Lane,  so  it  must  have  been  substantially  fair; 
at  any  rate  it  was  bright.  The  authorship  of  this  one  brilliant 
piece  of  Lane  literature  has  been  variously  attributed  to  John 
James  Ingalls  and  Verres  Nicholas  Smith  —  divided,  so  to 
speak,  between  the  most  brilliant  and  the  most  beautiful  of 
Kansaiis. 

In  bringing  up  before  the  mind's  eye  this  certainly  re- 
markable man,  it  is  necessary  to  talk  with  those  who  in  his 
day  talked  with  him ;  who  "  hoorayed "  for  him,  or  against 
him.  In  a  group  of  old  Kansans  the  mention  of  Lane's  name 
will  always  rouse  the  conversation,  as  a  punch  at  the  back-log 
starts  an  old-fashioned  open  fire.  From  scores  of  such  talks 
the  writer  has  derived  his  impressions.  One  of  the  first 
hearty  laughs  he  remembers  to  have  indulged  in  in  Kansas, 
was  at  some  of  Col.  Tom  Moonlight's  wonderful  imitations 
of  his  former  civil  and  military  chief — after  a  fashion.  He 
was  also  made  a  debtor  in  the  same  way  to  Mr.  James  C.  Hor- 
ton,  once  the  "poor  Yorick"  who  was  wont  to  set  Lawrence 
in  a  roar,  but  who  instead  of  dying  to  have  his  head-piece 
•  knocked  about  by  some  unmannerly  sexton,  and  moralized 
over  by  some  Hamlet,  still  lives,  a  sedate  and  prosperous  busi- 
ness man  of  Kansas  City. 

Of  Lane,  biographically,  there  is  no  need  to  speak  at 
length.  The  earlier  story  is  summed  up  on  page  440  of 
Wilder's  Annals  : 

"James  Henry  Lane  was  the  son  of  Amos  Lane,  and  was 
born  in  Lawrenceburg,  Indiana,  June  22, 1814.  In  1846  he  be- 


JIM  LANE.  107 

came  colonel  of  a  regiment  raised  to  engage  in  the  Mexican 
war;  in  1847  he  became  colonel  of  another  Indiana  regiment; 
in  1849  he  was  elected  Lieutenant-Governor;  in  1852  he  was  a 
Democratic  Presidential  Elector,  and  was  elected  to  Congress; 
in  April,  1855,  he  came  to  Kansas.  In  this  State,  in  politics, 
he  was  King." 

In  1854  he  voted  for  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill ;  in  1855  he 
came  to  be  King  of  Abolition  Kansas.  There  is  a  good  deal 
of  politics  in  that  little  paragraph. 

The  Lanes  seem  to  have  been  a  family  of  politicians.  His 
father,  Amos  Lane,  was  a  member  of  Congress  in  1837,  and 
before  that  had  been  a  member  of  the  Indiana  Legislature, 
and  Speaker.  In  the  matter-of-fact  pages  of  Lanman  he  is 
spoken  of  as  a  first-class  lawyer,  and  as  "filling  a  conspicuous 
place  in  the  history  of  Indiana."  Gen.  Lane  was  accustomed 
to  speak  in  public  of  his  "good  old  Methodist  mother."  Pos- 
sibly he  may  have  derived  the  religion,  which  he  possessed 
in  an  intermittent  form,  from  her  ;  it  is  probable  that  he  re- 
ceived his  political  training  from  his  father,  who  survived 
until  1850;  but  there  is  a  tradition  that  politics  in  the  Lane 
family  did  not  end  here. 

Some  years  ago  the  writer  met  in  Atchison  a  venerable  lady 
with  a  memory  of  iron  and  a  voice  like  a  steamboat  bell  — 
most  sonorous  and  melodious  of  bells — who  gave  him  the 
story  of  the  hard-cider  campaign  of  1840  in  Indiana,  of  which 
she  was  a  witness,  from  a  Democratic  standpoint.  "In  1840," 
observed  the  old  lady,  with  an  air  of  conviction  and  in  her 
most  bell-like  tones,  "-the  Whigs  nominated  Gen.  Harrison 
for  President,  and  he  was  an  old  imbecile."  She  went  on  to 
say  that  the  Whig  managers  endeavored  to  keep  the  old  Gen- 
eral in  the  background,  for  fear  he  would  do  something 


108  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

foolish,  but  that  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  appear  in 
public  at  a  banquet.  Here  it  was  hoped  he  would  keep  quiet; 
but  the  "Lane  girls"  sisters  of  James  H.,  got  around  the 
old  man,  filled  him  up  with  champagne,  and  got  him  to  sing- 
ing songs  of  love  and  war  in  the  most  ridiculous  manner. 

This  was  told  for  truth.  If  true,  it  shows  that  "blood 
tells."  If  not  true,  it  is  interesting  as  a  specimen  of  the  cam- 
paign lie  of  forty-eight  years  ago. 

However  the  political  faculty  may  have  got  into  Lane,  it 
got  there. 

What  induced  a  man  who  had  voted  for  the  Nebraska  bill 
to  come  to  Kansas,  of  all  the  places  in  the  world,  to  seek 
political  preferment,  has  not  been  clearly  explained.  It  is 
probable  that  no  other  man  would  have  thought  of  it. 

General  Lane,  as  he  seems  to  have  been  called  at  once, 
came  to  the  Territory  a  Democrat,  and  his  first  figuring  was 
done  in  a  "National  Democratic"  movement  which  was  de- 
signed to  ride  the  whirlwind  and  direct  the  storm.  A  month 
later  he  was  in  the  councils  of  the  extremest  of  extreme  Free- 
State  men.  He  spoke  with  Charles  Robinson  at  the  funeral 
of  Barber,  commemorated  in  pathetic  verse  by  Whittier,  and 
thenceforward  was  General  Lane  of  Kansas. 

It  is  of  course  possible  to  conceive  of  an  Indiana  Democrat 
becoming  a  Free-State  man  and  a  Republican  in  Kansas,  but 
the  wonderful  thing  is  that  a  Southern  Indianian  should  have 
become  a  leader  of  the  Kansas  Free-State  movement  at  all. 

Southern  Indiana  in  those  days  was  very  far  south.  One 
had  only  to  look  across  the  river  to  see  slavery.  In  fact, 
there  was  a  story  that  Lane  was  actually  born  on  slave  tern- 


JIM  LANE.  109 

tory,  in  Kentucky.  The  natural  supposition,  looking  at  the 
situation  from  this  distance,  would  be  that  the  New-Englanders 
would  have  entirely  controlled  the  Free-State  organization. 
Yet,  there  was  this  born-pro-slavery  Hoosier  running  what 
was  naturally  a  Yankee  party.  He  had  no  single  feature  that 
could  endear  him  to  the  Massachusetts  heart,  and  he  had  no 
"idees"  in  common  with  Hosea  Biglow's  countrymen;  but 
here  he  was,  between  spring  and  summer,  working  in  the 
lead.  He  had  no  New  England  habits  or  reverences.  In  busi- 
ness habits  he  was  "shiftless,"  in  language  coarse  and  un- 
couth, and  he  had  no  culture.  It  is  the  boast  of  Manhattan 
that  one  of  the  first  parties  to  locate  on  the  town-site  was 
composed  of  five  graduates  of  five  different  colleges.  Jim 
Lane  could  never  have  located  had  only  alumni  been  eligible. 
It  is  considered  one  of  his  best  jokes  that  he  succeeded  in 
getting  a  school  named  in  his  honor,  "Lane  University." 
"Jacob  Stringfellow,"  whose  sketch  I  have  cited,  says  Lane 
came  to  Kansas  with  the  purpose  of  becoming  a  United  States 
Senator.  He  "made  it,"  and  he  did  it  all  with  his  jaw,  for 
silver  and  gold  he  had  none.  Not  a  day  or  an  hour  was  he 
idle.  From  1855  to  1861  he  was  everywhere.  It  was  an  era 
of  conventions.  No  other  country  had  ever  held  so  many 
conventions  or  passed  so  many  resolutions  as  did  Kansas  dur- 
ing her  Territorial  period.  It  was  a  cold  day  when  Jim  Lane 
did  not  address  a  convention  and  report  a  platform. 

It  is  very  easy  to  get  lost  in  attempting  to  follow  him 
through  all  this  maze.  The  speeches  are  preserved  in  the  old 
newspaper  files,  with  the  resolutions.  But  they  tell  very  little 
of  the  man.  What  about  him? 


110  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

He  looked  like  nobody  else.  His  picture  in  the  State  His- 
torical Society's  collection  does  not  look  like  any  of  the  others 
there.  His  hair  stands  out  in  every  direction,  like  the  "  scare 
wigs"  that  the  nigger  minstrels  use.  The  mouth  suggests  im- 
precations and  nicotine,  the  eyes  anything  you  like.  There 
is  a  suggestion  of  recklessness  about  the  visage.  Compare 
it  with  the  trim  bust  of  Eli  Thayer,  of  Massachusetts,  if  you 
want  to  see  something  startling-  in  the  way  of  a  contrast. 

He  talked  like  none  of  the  rest.  None  of  the  others  had 
that  husky,  rasping,  blood-curdling  whisper,  or  that  menacing 
forefinger,  or  could  shriek  "Great  God"  on  the  same  day  with 
him.  Nobody  save  him  purposely  mispronounced  well-known 
names  and  talked  about  the  "Topeko  constitution"  and  the 
"Lavingsworth  constitution." 

Those  who  have  read  Dr.  Bird's  old  Indian  story  of  "Nick 
of  the  Woods"  will  remember  the  "  Jibbenainosay  "  and  Roar- 
ing Ralph  Stackpole.  Jim  Lane  seemed  a  combination  of  the 
two.  Like  the  "Jibbenainosay,"  he  was  always  on  the  move. 
His  calfskin  vest  was  liable  to  appear  in  any  part  of  the 
wilderness.  He  was  as  active  and  tireless  as  the  wind.  In  the 
course  of  five  years  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  Ter- 
ritory saw  and  heard  him.  The  "Jibbenainosay,"  the  Quaker 
turned  avenger,  did  not  pursue  the  Shawnees  more  remorse- 
lessly than  did  Lane  his  political  foes.  Let  some  village  law- 
yer set  up  the  standard  of  opposition  or  revolt,  and  in  an  hour 
he  thought  not,  a  box  was  set  up  in  front  of  his  office  and 
thereon  stood  "Old  Jim"  pouring  out  upon  him  to  the  delec- 
tation of  a  crowd  of  Kansas  sovereigns  a  flood  of  gall,  describ- 
ing him  as  a  compound  of  fool  and  malefactor,  coward  and 


JIM  LANE.  Ill 

slave,  and  inventing  biography  by  the  yard.  And  the  crowning 
misery  was  that  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  everybody  seemed 
to  believe  it.  The  crowd  was  always  there.  The  bare  an- 
nouncement that  he  was  to  speak  called  the  aged  from  the 
chimney-corner  and  the  children  from  their  play. 

His  reign  was  not  undisputed.  The  opposition  broke  out 
here  one  day  and  there  the  next.  It  looked  easy  to  "down 
him,"  but  the  "old  settlers"  laugh  to  this  day  at  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  plots.  A  gentleman  high  in  the  councils  of 
the  State  in  his  retrospective  moments  is  accustomed  to  tell 
of  a  missionary  of  sedition  who  labored  for  an  hour  with  the 
ugliest  man  in  the  Border  Tier,  and  a  fearful  stammerer  be- 
side, unfolding  a  dark  chapter  of  Lane's  infidelities  and  im- 
moralities, at  the  end  of  which  the  ugly  man,  with  a  grin  that 
intensified  the  horrors  of  his  countenance,  announced  that  he 
should  vote  for  Lane,  because  he  was  himself,  locally,  the  chief 
of  sinners  in  the  same  direction. 

Was  he  an  orator?  Was  it  eloquence  tha"t  made  him,  as 
Wilder  says,  "King"  ?  There  is  on  record  an  opinion  written 
by  a  young  man  named  Ingalls,  who  in  the  year  1862  wrote 
letters  from  Topeka  to  the  Leavenworth  Conservative.  This 
young  man,  it  may  be  remarked,  has  since  had  considerable 
experience  in  public  speaking  himself ;  and  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters he  thus  described  Lane: 

"His  voice  is  a  series  of  transitions  from  the  broken  scream 
of  a  maniac  to  the  hoarse,  rasping  gutterals  of  a  Dutch  butcher 
in  the  last  gasp  of  inebriation;  the  construction  of  his  sen- 
tences is  loose  and  disjointed;  his  diction  is  a  pudding  of  slang, 
profanity  and  solecism;  and  yet  the  electric  shock  of  his  ex- 
traordinary eloquence  thrills  like  the  blast  of  a  trumpet;  the 
magnetism  of  his  manner,  the  fire  of  his  glance,  the  studied 


112  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

earnestness  of  his  utterances,  finds  a  sudden  response  in  the 
•will  of  his  audience,  and  he  sways  them  like  a  field  of  reeds 
shaken  by  the  wind." 

One  sunny  day,  some  years  ago,  Judge  Samuel  A.  Kingman, 
sitting  on  a  broken-backed  chair  in  a  Topeka  grocery  store 
smoking  his  faithful  pipe,  indulged  in  some  remarks  on  the 
subject  of  oratory  and  orators.  He  gave  Kentucky  traditions 
of  the  wonderful  Tom  Marshall;  his  own  recollection  of  Henry 
Clay,  as  well  as  the  never-printed  remembrances  of  Henry 
Clay's  neighbors ;  his  own  first  and  last  hearing,  in  a  little 
Kentucky  town,  of  Sergeant  S.  Prentiss,  and  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  class  Lane  with  these  as  "a  great  natural  orator."  "By 
a  great  natural  orator,"  remarked  the  Judge,  by  way  of  defini- 
tion, "I  mean  a  man  who  can  stand  up  before  a  crowd  of  five 
hundred  men,  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  whom  are  ready  to 
hang  him  to  the  next  tree,  and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour 
have  them  all  cheering  for  him." 

This,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  said  of  a  man  who  really 
did  not  know  who  Pericles  was. 

How  was  it  done?  A  word  in  Ingalls's  sketch  here  quoted 
seems  to  furnish  the  key.  It  was  "  magnetism." 

The  late  Col.  Stephen  A.  Cobb  was  wont  to  relate  an  inci- 
dent which  came  under  his  own  observation.  After  Lane  had 
killed,  in  a  claim  fight,  his  Free-State  neighbor,  Gaius  Jenkins, 
the  sky  grew  black  for  a  time.  In  the  worst  of  it,  Lane  went 
to  Wyandotte  to  make  a  speech.  Jenkins  had  once  lived 
there,  and  the  town  was  filled  with  his  friends.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  Lane  could  find  a  man  to  preside  at  his  meet- 
ing. Col.  Cobb  himself  consented  to  act  as  secretary.  The 


JIM  LANE.  113 

hour  came  and  the  room  was  crowded.  The  scene  was  some- 
thing frightful.  Lane  rose  to  speak,  and  the  crowd  yelled, 
"Murderer  !"  Not  a  syllable  could  be  heard.  Lane  stood  and 
waved  his  hand  for  ten  minutes,  fifteen  —  nobody  knew  how 
long,  and  the  crowd  grew  still,  and  was  kept  still  nobody 
knew  how.  He  held  them.  In  the  midst  of  the  uproar  a  Wy- 
andotte  Indian  named  Greyeyes  had  gone  out  of  the  hall, 
presumably  to  get  a  drink.  He  returned  after  the  uproar 
had  ceased,  but  his  muddled  mind  did  not  take  in  the  situa- 
tion. He  staggered  up  the  hall  and  muttered  some  opprobri- 
ous epithet.  Lane  looked  about,  pointed  his  long  finger  at 
the  offender,  and  said  in  a  voice  of  command  :  "Put  that  In- 
dian out !"  And  out  he  went.  That  was  magnetism  —  if  there 
is  any  such  force. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Lane  also  visited  Topeka. 
According  to  local  tradition  the  town  was  in  high  state  of 
virtuous  indignation.  There  was  a  lofty  resolve  not  to  coun- 
tenance the  supposed-to-be  fallen  chief.  He  might  speak,  but 
they  would  not  listen.  Yet  when  the  "speaking"  began  the 
entire  population  was  present,  as  usual.  And  this,  according 
to  a  living  witness  and'listener,  is  what  he  said  : 

"I  have  heard  these  charges  against  me,  and  I  am  here  to 
answer  them.  I  will  take  them  up  one  by  one.  They  say  that 
Jim  Lane  is  a  murderer !  What  are  the  facts  ?  When  the 
noble  women  of  Lawrence  were  endeavoring  to  establish  a 
public  library,  what  did  Jim  Lane  do  ?  He  took  his  old  clay- 
bank  horse  out  of  the  field,  where  he  was  plowing  to  raise  a 
little  corn  for  his  family,  and  sold  that  horse  for  $37.50  and 
gave  the  money  to  those  noble  women  to  help  them  establish 
that  library;  and  yet,  great  God,  they  say  Jim  Lane  is  a  mur- 
derer!!!" 

In  this  report,  Archie  Williams  is  probably  as  correct  as 


114  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

was  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  report  of  William  Pitt's  remarks 
concerning  "the  atrocious  crime  of  being  a  young  man." 
At  any  rate,  whatever  Lane  said  was  no  more  to  the  purpose, 
and  yet  the  effect  was  electrical. 

On  the  4th  day  of  April,  1861,  Lane  was  chosen,  after 
what  may  be  called  an  agonizing  campaign,  and  a  ballot  which 
consumed  two  hours,  a  Senator  of  the  United  States  from  the 
State  of  Kansas,  receiving  fifty-five  votes.  Then  came  the 
war,  and  Lane  left  his  place  in  the  Senate  and  announced 
that  he  had  been  commissioned  a  brigadier  general.  And 
the  Kansas  brigade  marched  and  "countermarched,"  and  forti- 
fied, and  fought,  and  burned  for  months,  and  then  Brigadier 
General  Lane  was  announced  as  Major  General  Lane,  about 
to  take  command  of  an  army  to  march  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
and  then  there  was  a  conflict  with  old  Gen.  Hunter,  and 
Gen.  Lane  announced  that  it  was  his  "sad  and  simple  duty" 
—  those  were  his  words  — to  return  to  the  United  States 
Senate,  to  which  the  Governor  had  appointed  a  successor,  who, 
however,  did  not  succeed.  Lane  had  commanded  an  army, 
and  was  announced  as  a  commander  of  another,  yet  his  name 
is  not  borne  on  the  rolls  among  the  officers  commissioned 
from  Kansas  by  the  President  of  the  United  States.  Nothing 
like  that  ever  happened  before. 

After  all  this,  after  revolt  following  revolt  against  him,  he 
was  chosen  in  January,  1865,  United  States  Senator,  receiving 
82  votes,  with  seven  votes  for  his  leading  competitor.  He  was 
still  "King." 

This  last  victory  was  in  1865.  One  year  later  he  came 
from  Washington  to  Lawrence  to  make  a  speech  in  favor  of 


JIM  LANE.  115 

Andrew  Johnson.  He  spoke  at  Leavenworth  and  at  Topeka, 
and  there  was  a  sort  of  indorsement.  It  was  but  a  wave.  In 
the  spring  the  overwhelming  opposing  tide  came  in.  Town 
after  town,  the  old  strongholds,  shut  their  gates  against  him. 
Meetings  called  to  indorse  him  broke  away  and  condemned 
him.  He  still  held  out,  and  in  April  spoke  for  Johnson  in  the 
Senate;  but  "Birnam  Wood"  kept  marching  on  and  the 
"Thanes"  fled  from  him.  In  June  he  procured  leave  of  ab- 
sence and  came  back  to  Kansas.  He  appeared  in  Lawrence  to 
be  received  in  silence  and  coldness.  A  few  days  later  he  was 
in  Leavenworth  on  his  way  east.  On  the  25th  of  June  he  was 
reported  in  St.  Louis  seriously  ill ;  on  the  28th  he  was  back  in 
Kansas  City  ;  the  next  day  he  was  back  in  Leavenworth,  and 
stopping  with  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  McCall,  at  the  Govern- 
ment farm.  On  the  1st  of  July,  it  being  Sunday  evening,  he 
was  riding  out  with  Mr.  McCall.  He  left  the  carriage  several 
times.  On  arriving  at  a  gate  Mr.  McCall  got  out  to  open  it. 
Lane  sprang  from  the  carriage,  said  "Good-bye,  Mac,"  placed 
the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  in  his  mouth  and  fired.  He  sprang  into 
the  air  and  fell  back  insensible.  The  ball  had  passed  directly 
through  his  brain. 

Why  did  he  do  it  ?  Some  said  there  was  a  suicidal  mania 
in  his  brain  —  that  he  had  a  brother  who,  literally,  in  the  Old- 
Testament  language,  "fell  upon  his  sword  and  so  died"; 
others  said  that  he  feared  disgrace  growing  out  of  certain 
transactions,  but  such  as  never  killed  any  other  public  man 
of  his  day.  Is  it  possible  his  iron  heart  was  broken  ? 

With  this  wound,  which  would  have  been  instantly  fatal  to 


116  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

any  other  man,  he  lived  on;  five  days  after,  he  recognized 
those  about  him  and  spoke  to  them. 

On  the  eleventh  of  July,  at  the  hour  of  noon,  ten  days  hav- 
ing passed,  the  scheming  brain  worked  and  suffered  no  more; 
there  was  an  end  of  plots  and  plans;  a  last  farewell  to  all  that 
men  strive  for  to  find  ruin  in  the  gaining. 

The  "King"  was  dead. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  BOURBON.* 


HENRY  IV,  the  Bearnese,  first  of  kingly  Bourbons,  rid- 
ing in  peace  into  the  camp  of  the  Catholics,  hitherto 
his  enemies,  was  hailed,  "King  of  the  brave,"  and  so  to  the 
end  of  his  days,  as  far  as  any  bodily  peril,  in  camp  or  field,  in 
charge  or  siege,  by  spear  or  battle-axe,  or  cross-bow,  he  re- 
mained. On  his  moral  side  most  weak,  slave  of  his  passions, 
crying  even  in  graying  age  for  the  possession  of  some  female 
favorite,  like  a  baby  for  a  toy,  he  yet  loved  France  and  French- 
men, and  was  a  king  among  kings,  and  a  man  among  men. 
Born  amid  mountains  and  reared  in  rude  simplicity,  rocked 
in  the  cradle  of  war,  he  grew  hardy  but  not  hardened.  He  re- 
tained in  his  mouth  to  the  last  the  taste  of  the  garlic  and 
mountain  wine  that  his  grandfather  forced  into  it  when  he 
was  not  an  hour  old,  in  order  that  the  boy  might  grow  up  bold 
and  gay.  Born  Huguenot,  he  changed  openly  and  in  the  face 
of  day  his  religion,  beseeching  his  new  spiritual  guides  to 
make  the  new  faith  fit  as  loosely  as  possibly.  This  he  did  for 
the  peace  of  France,  and  in  doing  so  drew  on  himself  the 
anger  and  grief  of  the  Huguenots  of  the  old  rock,  and,  be- 
cause he  would  not  change  into  a  savage  bigot,  the  wrath  of 
fanatics  of  the  old  religion,  who  sharpened  the  knife  of 

*An  address  delivered  before  the  literary  societies  of  the  Kansas  State 
University,  June  6, 1887. 

(117) 


118  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Kiivillac.  Henry  IV  believed  in  a  God  who  took  intimate 
and  personal  cognizance  of  the  political  affairs  of  France  and 
Navarre,  and  to  Him  he  addressed  himself  before  the  battle  of 
Ivry,  saying:  "If  it  be  for  the  people's  good  that  I  keep  the 
crown,  favor  Thou  my  cause."  For  the  rest,  he  believed  God 
would  be  lenient  with  the  faults  of  men,  especially  of  royal 
men,  and  so  he  was  of  earth  earthy,  and  lived  for  this  world; 
so  that  his  friend,  Bassompierre,  hearing  him  one  day  speak 
of  dying,  said  in  the  impatience  of  his  soul:  "My  God,  will 
you  never  cease  vexing  us  by  telling  us  that  you  will  soon  die; 
you  who  are  loved  and  adored  by  your  subjects,  with  fine 
houses,  fine  women,  and  fine  children  who  are  growing  upi" 
Yet,  die  he  did.  Last  of  the  merry-hearted  and  brave  and 
affectionate  of  his  race,  a  great  sinner,  too,  yet  because  he  left 
one  wish  behind  him,  his  memory  has  been  saved  in  honor. 
"I  wish  every  poor  man  in  France,"  said  he,  "had  a  chicken 
in  his  pot."  For  that  his  statue  stands  much  respected  on  the 
Pont  Neuf,  unharmed  by  all  the  revolutions  that  have  crossed 
that  bridge.  First  of  Bourbons,  but  without  a  Bourbon  face 
or  soul,  why  were  you  not  the  last  ? 

Louis  XIII,  son,  not  of  his  father,  but  of  his  mother,  save 
that  he  would  fight  on  occasion,  melancholy  bat  stubborn, 
resolute  but  yielding,  hated  his  mother  and  disbelieved  his 
wife,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  John  Armand  dn  Plessis, 
Cardinal  Richelieu,  who  walked,  when  a  young  lion,  softly  in 
the  sands  of  policy  and  seeming  meekness,  but  when  older 
grown  crushed  with  his  iron  paw  noble  and  simple,  Catholic 
and  Huguenot,  "  irreverent  ribald  "  and  true  believer.  In  the 
craft  and  force  of  this  man,  who  was  no  Bourbon,  the  second 


HOUSE   OF  BOURBON.  119 

prince  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  lived,  moved,  and  had  his  being, 
and  when  the  cardinal  died  the  king  died;  when  the  sheltering 
hand  of  Richelieu  was  removed  the  life  of  Louis  XIII  went  out 
like  a  candle. 

Louis  XIV,  sometimes  called  the  Great,  fell  in  childhood 
into  the  hands  of  another  priest,  Cardinal  Mazarin,  not  so 
great  as  the  other,  but  one  of  the  sort  who  wait  and  watch  and 
gather  in.  "Time  is  an  able  fellow,"  said  the  Cardinal.  He, 
waiting  and  watching,  and  gathering  and  circumventing,  kept 
the  round  world  together  till  Louis  XIV  was  ready  to  take  it. 
The  cardinal,  in  that  distant  age,  had  arrived  at  a  conclusion 
recently  reached  by  Col.  Ochiltree,  the  bon  homme  Thomas,  of 
Texas:  "The  more  I  get  acquainted  with  men  the  more  I  think 
of  dogs."  Cardinal  Mazarin  was  a  believer  in  the  historical 
theory  so  wordily  maintained  by  Mr.  Froude  and  Mr.  Carlyle, 
that  what  men  need  is  a  vigorous,  all-round  tyrant.  Being 
about  to  depart  on  a  journey  full  of  uncertainty,  Cardinal 
Mazarin  sought  to  secure  this  boon  for  France,  and  so  told 
his  young  charge  to  trust  no  man  and  be  his  own  Prime  Min- 
ister. And  Louis  XIV  then  began  a  career  that  spread  like  a 
fog  before  and  behind  him.  He  was  the  first  and  the  last;  the 
beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end;  the  argument  and  sum- 
mary and  conclusion  of  Bourbonism,  that  is  of  the  French 
Bourbons.  His  actual  length  in  his  coffin  was  five  feet  eight; 
his  statue  looks  six  feet;  in  life  he  was  ten.  He  was  a  regu- 
larly installed  god.  Herod  was  eaten  of  worms  for  less  preten- 
sions. Men  lived  in  his  smile  and  perished  in  his  frown;  the 
sun  was  eclipsed  when  he  turned  his  back,  and  it  was  heaven 
to  hand  him  his  nightgown,  and  a  boon  like  eternal  life  to 


120  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

hold  the  candle  when  he  got  into  bed.  He  said:  "I  am  the 
State,"  and  nobody  in  France  ventured  to  dispute  it.  He 
frowned,  sulked,  uplifted  and  degraded,  and  was  king  all 
around  regardless  of  expense;  made  war  on  everybody  and 
oppressed  everybody,  forced  the  legitimation  of  his  wretched 
natural  children,  and  dismissed  his  faithful  wife  from  this 
world  with  the  observation  that  her  death  was  the  first  of  her 
acts  to  cause  him  trouble;  and  at  forty  years  of  age  he  sur- 
rendered his  imperial  nose  to  the  cold  grasp  of  the  thumb 
and  finger  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  led  him  the  rest  of 
the  way.  He  impoverished  France,  built  palaces  for  harlots, 
starved  a  million  of  his  subjects,  and  drove  at  the  least  cal- 
culation 250,000  into  exile  by  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes.  Having  outlived  his  old  generals,  he  saw  his  younger 
ones  beaten  on  all  sides,  and  coming  to  die  was  deserted  by 
the  half-devotee,  half -hypocrite,  and  wholly  selfish  and  implac- 
able woman  he  had  made  his  wife,  and  heard  with  his  old  dy- 
ing ears  the  retreating  footsteps  of  those  who  were  rushing 
out  to  take  a  look  at  the  rising  sun.  Thus  perished  the  first 
and  last  Bourbon  opposite  whose  name  even  the  basest  flat- 
terer has  dared  to  write  "Great." 

With  Louis  XV,  the  house  ceased  to  be  counted  respecta- 
ble. Bad  became  worse.  More  ecclesiastics  came,  but  not 
Richelieu,  not  Mazarin,  but  Fleury  and  Dubois.  St.  Simon 
said  of  the  latter :  "All  vices  struggle  within  him  for  the  mas- 
tery. Avarice,  debauchery,  ambition  were  his  gods  ;•  perfidy, 
flattery,  slavishness  his  instruments,"  and,  here  is  the  finish- 
ing touch,  "unbelief  his  comfort."  The  time  of  Louis  XV 
was  with  most  -civilized  nations  a  period  of  awakening  and 


HOUSE  OF  BOURBON.  121 

growth.  It  was  the  period  when  the  British  colonies,  destined 
to  become  the  United  States  of  America,  were  rising  into  no- 
tice. With  France  it  was  an  age  of  loss  and  disgrace.  Fouler 
grew  the  court,  lower  sank  the  king,  till  one  day  a  strange 
sight  was  seen.  Quite  different  was  it  from  those  resplendent 
royal  progresses  which  his  late  majesty  Louis  XIV  was  ac- 
customed to  make.  This  was  the  last  progress  of  his  later 
majesty,  King  Louis  XV,  in  a  hearse,  driven  at  full  speed  and 
followed  by  two  carriages.  The  progress,  though  unpreten- 
tious, was  not  unnoticed  ;  the  people  stopped  in  their  ways  to 
curse  the  cavalcade  as  it  passed.  The  dark-browed  Fate  had 
cut  the  brittle,  rotten  thread  of  another  Bourbon  life. 

Then  came  the  poor  source  of  a  long  controversy,  yet  in 
progress;  the  dull  subject  of  a  brilliant  argument;  the  amia- 
ble excuse  for  frightful  cruelties,  King  Louis  XVI,  who,  be- 
cause he  had  neither  the  courage  to  fight  nor  the  wit  to  fly, 
was  devoured  by  red-capped  devils. 

It  all  came  about,  this  catastrophe,  from  the  old  affair  of 
the  chicken  and  the  pot,  meditated  upon  by  his  majesty 
Henry  IV,  and  overlooked  by  his  Bourbon  inheritors.  It  was 
the  failure  of  the  fowl,  the  receptacle  and  the  poor  man  to  con- 
nect that  precipitated  the  revolution.  True,  the  philosophers 
had  discussed  in  salons  and  in  summer  arbors  the  natural 
rights  of  man,  and  had  quoted  some  emphatic  declarations  on 
the  subject  written  by  Mr.  Thomas  Jefferson,  at  one  time 
minister  of  the  United  States  at  the  court  of  Louis  XVI;  but 
the  hungry  people  hustled  the  philosopher  aside  in  a  rush,  not 
merely  for  natural  rights,  but  for  "bread"  for  which  they 
called  out  in  connection  with  "  blood. "  A  fine  lady  suggested 


122  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

if  the  people  were  starving  they  might  eat  plain  roast  chicken. 
The  chicken  suggestion  came  up  again.  Alas!  Madame,  that 
was  the  trouble.  Bourbonism  has  never  met  the  chicken  or 
any  other  question,  either  boiled  or  roasted,  or  stewed,  or 
fried,  or  in  any  other  shape  or  manner  whatsoever. 

Well,  after  poor  Louis,  there  came  others,  like  the  shifting 
shadows  of  a  magic  lantern.  There  was  a  doll  Louis  XVIII, 
of  whom  little  is  remembered  personally,  although  Europe 
was  trodden  into  a  mire  of  blood  that  a  crown  might  be  placed 
on  his  fat  thick  head;  and  there  was  Charles  X,  who  was  over- 
thrown by  a  revolution  that  lasted  three  days;  and  there  was 
Louis  Phillippe,  a  sort  of  side-track  Bourbon,  who  got  up  a 
little  excursion  to  England  within  our  recollection;  and  there 
died  not  long  ago  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  never  exercised 
even  as  much  actual  authority  as  Sancho  Panza  on  his  island 
of  Barrataria,  but  who  kept  a  white  flag  up  garret,  and  whom 
a  few  deaf  and  semi-paralytic  old  gentlemen  were  accustomed 
to  call  on  once  a  year  and  salute  as  Henry  V;  but  now  he  is 
dead,  and  the  House  of  Bourbon  has  gone  out  of  business  and 
nailed  up  the  windows,  and  the  family  jewels  were  put  up  at 
auction  by  the  Republic  of  France  only  last  week.  The  House 
of  Bourbon  began  with  Henry  IV,  a  man  and  king;  it  ended 
with  Henry  V,  the  shadow  of  a  shade. 

French  people,  with  many  accomplishments,  have  one  of 
saying  a  great  deal  in  a  few  words.  All  the  history  of  the 
Russian  monarchy  from  Peter  the  Great  to  Alexander  III,  is 
summed  up  in  Talleyrand's  description,  "An  absolute  mon- 
archy limited  by  assassination,"  and  the  limitation  is  still  in 
force,  and  all  of  the  history  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  has  been 


HOUSE  OF  BOURBON.  123 

covered  by  the  saying,  "Learning  nothing  and  forgetting 
nothing."  There  was,  too,  a  prophecy  uttered  once  which  has 
been  accepted  as  a  general  and  special  explanation  of  Bour- 
bon ill-luck.  In  the  most  splendid  and  wicked  period  of  Louis 
XVth's  reign,  France  was  really  ruled  by  a  lady  known  as 
Madame  the  Countess  of  Pompadour,  whose  name  is  preserved 
to  us  in  a  fashion  of  dressing  the  hair.  She  was  not  born  a 
Bourbon,  but  of  a  middle-class  French  family,  her  maiden 
name  translated  being  Miss  Fish.  She,  not  being  a  Bourbon, 
was  blessed  with  common-sense,  and  noting  the  waste,  includ- 
ing the  millions  wasted  on  herself,  said  one  day,  "Apres  nous 
le  deluge,"  "After  us  the  deluge."  She  went  out  of  this  world 
early,  dying  of  heart  disease,  but  she  left  behind  this  prophecy 
and  key  to  Bourbonism,  and  it  is  but  just  to  say  for  her,  poor 
sinner,  that  she  also  left,  as  created  to  satisfy  her  artistic  taste, 
the  great  porcelain  manufacture  at  Sevres,  which  goes  on  like 
Tennyson's  'Brook,'  forever,  without  regard  to  the  changes  of 
government  in  France,  and  has  furnished  employment  to  a 
great  many  honest  men  and  women. 

"  Learning  nothing,"  referring  to  good  things,  and  forget- 
ting nothing,"  referring  to  evil  things,  and  when  forced  to  the 
wall,  and  standing  on  the  verge  of  the  last  ditch,  and  meeting 
the  demand  of  justice,  when  she  stands  with  her  uplifted 
sword,  with  the  everlasting  "Apres  Nous" — -"After  Us,"  and 
you  have  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  and  the  family  record 
between,  of  Bourbonism.  The  history  of  the  French  House 
of  Bourbon  shows  that  it  never  advanced,  but  retrograded. 
Henry  IV  proclaimed  the  edict  of  Nantes ;  his  grandson, 
Louis  XIV,  revoked  it.  Before  Henry  IV  was  the  massacre  of 


124  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

St.  Bartholomew,  but  in  Louis  XVth's  time,  eight  years  before 
the  birth  of  George  Washington,  the  new  law  concerning 
Protestants  said:  "Preachers  shall  be  condemned  to  the  pen- 
alty of  death ;  their  accomplices  to  the  galleys  ;  women  to  be 
shaved  and  imprisoned.  Persons  who  exhort  the  sick  shall 
be  sent  to  the  galleys  or  imprisoned  for  life,  according  to  sex, 
and  to  confiscation  of  goods."  "  I  am  the  State,"  said  Louis 
XIV,  but  in  1792  King  Louis  XVI  was  advised  that  "all  legisla- 
tive power  is  in  the  hands  of  the  king."  From  Noah's  flood  to 
the  verge  of  the  deluge  predicted  by  Madame  Pompadour, 
nothing  had  been  learned. 

The  House  of  Bourbon  is  no  more,  but  there  remains,  not 
in  France  only,  Bourbonism.  The  House  of  Bourbon  exer- 
cised even  in  its  decay  and  ruin,  a  strange  spell.  The  great 
British  nation,  when  that  virtuous  indignation  which  it  always 
keeps  in  stock,  was  roused  by  the  extraordinary  liberties 
taken  by  Napoleon  Bonaparte  with  the  map  of  Europe,  could 
think  of  no  remedy  except  turning  Europe  into  a  slaughter- 
-house that  the  Bourbons  might  be  restored  to  a  people  who 
had  driven  them  off,  and  the  powerful  and  original  mind  of 
Napoleon  himself  was  overcome  with  the  Bourbon  idea.  He, 
the  son  of  a  Corsican  lawyer,  starting  in  active  life  a  sub- 
lieutenant of  artillery,  must  needs  try  to  be  a  monarch  after 
the  fashion  of  Louis  le  Grand,  and  call  around  him  to  teach 
him  how  to  do  it  a  lot  of  withered  dames  of  the  old  regime 
who  improved  the  proximity  to  fly-blow  his  reputation. 

Bourbonism,  the  system,  exercises  the  same  spell  as  did 
the  old  dynasty.  As  in  the  old  time,  not  the  parting  waters 
of  the  Red  Sea,  nor  the  admonition  of  the  pillar  of  fire  by 


HOUSE  OF  BOURBON.  125 

night,  nor  the  instruction  of  the  cloud  by  day,  nor  myriad 
miracles,  nor  the  quaking  of  Sinai  itself,  prevented  Israel 
from  groveling  at  the  feet  of  a  brass  calf  whose  worship  they 
had  left  Egypt  to  escape ;  so  men  have  time  and  again  re- 
turned to  the  worship  of  the  House  of  Bourbon. 

The  pretensions  on  the  part  of  Bourbonism  which  have  led 
men  to  hold  by  that  system,  or  even  to  return  to  it  when  well 
rid  of  it,  are  that  it  is  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  public 
order  and  of  stable  government.  Fixedness  is  the  perpetual 
trait  of  mountains  and  the  occasional  characteristic  of  mules; 
and  there  are  people  who  do  not  seem  to  be  able  to  perceive 
the  difference.  If  a  strong  government  is  needed,  Bourbonism 
in  its  purity  is  what  is  wanted.  The  government  of  Louis 
XIV  was  a  strong  one.  A  government  that  could  at  once  and 
by  the  issue  of  a  single  order  drive  250,000  faithful  subjects 
into  exile,  was  undoubtedly  strong;  it  would  be  hard  to  con- 
ceive of  a  stronger,  unless  it  would  be  a  government  that  could 
for  twenty-one  years  prevent  a  single  immigrant  from  land- 
ing on  its  shores.  But  it  has  been  noticed  that  the  strength 
which  is  always  equal  to  the  demands  of  persecution  and  pros- 
ecution and  repression,  is  never  equal  to  the  task  of  elevation. 
Under  the  strong  government  of  Louis  XIV  the  fate  of  com- 
mon Frenchmen  was  to  perish  in  useless  battle,  eat  grass  by 
the  roadside,  die  in  the  ditch,  or  be  banished  from  home. 
The  strength  of  Bourbonism  is  always  the  strength  of  an  al- 
ligator that  drags  everything  under.  The  romance  of  Bour- 
bonism, too,  has  its  charms.  The  great  and  good  Mr.  Burke, 
at  the  period  of  the  French  Revolution,  could  see  nothing 
through  his  tears  but  the  decline  of  chivalry;  but  the  chivalry 


126  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

which  Mr.  Burke  mourned  was  of  the  sort  that  branded  the 
white  shoulders  of  women  with  a  red-hot  iron  fleur  de  Us  on 
account  of  their  religion,  and  made  the  peasant-women  of 
France  wooden-shod  beasts  of  burden.  Chivalry  and  Bour- 
bonism — both  frauds,  how  often,  early  and  late,  they  have 
been  associated.  Then  too,  we  are  pointed  to  Bourbonism  as 
the  supporter  of  religion;  and  it  is  true  that  a  great  amount 
of  anointing  oil  has  run  down  its  narrow  and  retreating  fore- 
head. But  on  inspection  it  will  be  found  that  it  was  the  relig- 
ion of  Balaam — -determined  to  go  the  wrong  way  regardless 
of  the  protest  of  the  angel  that  stood  in  the  path,  or  of  the 
beast  of  burden  it  bestrode.  The  religion  of  Bourbonism 
was,  and  always  is,  a  Bourbon  religion,  that  renders  unto 
Caesar  all  that  is  Caesar's,  and  a  great  deal  more,  and  to  God 
what  happens  to  be  left.  That  was  the  religion  of  the  cour- 
tier who  remarked  when  the  wickedest  of  Bourbons  died  that 
God  would  think  twice  before  he  would  damn  a  man  of  his 
quality;  it  was  the  religion  of  the  bishop,  who  walking  in  a 
garden  with  a  lady  had  a  servant  walk  behind  with  a  rake  to 
obliterate  their  tracks  —  one  rake  thus  following  another;  it 
was  the  religion  that  filled  France  with  sleek  abbe's,  who  were 
practically  atheists.  Better  than  this,  any  religion.  Better 
than  these  ordained  mockers  of  God,  and  high  priests  in  the 
temple  of  corruption,  and  servers  of  an  infamous  altar,  the 
wildest  manifestations  of  what  is  called  religious  enthusiasm; 
better  even  the  Salvation  Army,  everywhere  spoken  against  for 
frightening  horses.  The  crimes  of  Bourbonism  have  been 
laid  at  the  door  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  by  its  ene- 
mies, and  the  authority  of  that  church  has  been  invoked  by 


HOUSE  OF  BOUEBON.  127 

its  friends.  But  that  was  the  church  of  Fenelon  and  Massil- 
lon,  saints  of  God;  the  church  of  Pascal  and  the  good  people 
of  Port  Royal,  the  church  of  millions  who  went  to  heaven 
and  found  there  the  greatest  possible  contrast  with  France. 
Others  have  accused  Christianity  as  the  essential  principle  of 
Bourbonism.  That  was  the  prevailing  view  in  1793,  and  is 
still  of  many  Frenchmen.  Such  do  not  appear  to  remember 
that  one  form  of  faith,  undoubtedly  Christian,  was  at  one  time 
the  great  barrier  in  the  way  of  the  flood  of  Bourbon  rotten- 
ness. I  speak  of  Calvinism,  which  made  God  so  great  that 
even  Louis  XIV  looked  small.  The  slightest  review  of  the 
facts  should  convince  that  the  religion  which  ministers  to 
Bourbonism  is  no  form  of  the  Christian  system.  It  is  merely 
the  Bourbon  religion.  There  is  no  strength  except  that 
which  oppresses ;  no  stability  except  that  of  the  infernal 
powers  ;  no  true  chivalry,  if  there  ever  was  such  a  thing  ;  no 
faith  embodying  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  toward  man,  in 
Bourbonism. 

Probably  the  most  clearly  visible  of  the  evil  effects  of  the 
once  universal  reign  of  the  House  of  Bourbon,  is  its  influence 
in  literature,  especially  in  the  department  of  history,  where  the 
doctrine  is  upheld  that  communities  have,  in  days  past,  and 
even  do  now,  need  tyranny,  and  individual  and  "  higher  class  " 
rule  as  a  school.  This  is  upheld  in  face  of  the  fact  that  a 
school  of  this  kind  once  maintained  in  Egypt,  resulted  in  the 
children  of  Israel,  to  the  number  of  a  million  or  so,  "  playing 
hookey." 

To  many  minds  the  declaration  of  Abraham  Lincoln  at 
Gettysburg  in  favor  of  a  government  of,  by  and  for  the  peo- 


128  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

pie,  seems  a  new  and  strange  saying.  That  government,  be  it 
understood,  is  the  direct  opposite,  and  the  farthest  possible 
remove  from  Bourbonism.  No  tyrant,  or  advocate  of  tyr- 
anny, from  Pharoah  who  would  not  let  the  children  of  Israel 
go,  to  the  latest  judge,  who,  in  the  miserable  inconsistent  days 
of  our  own  country,  found  in  the  constitution  new  reasons  for 
keeping  man  a  slave,  was  ever  of  the  least  practical  use,  ex- 
cept as  an  example  to  be  avoided  and  detested. 

The  Bourbon  notion  is  that  the  government  makes  the  peo- 
ple. But  the  people  have  always,  until  absolutely  imbruted 
by  Bourbon  rule,  been  better  than  their  government.  When 
Louis  XV  once  seemed  inclined  to  behave  like  a  soldier  and  a 
gentleman,  when  he  went  to  the  army  and  camped  with  the 
troops,  all  France  rose  in  a  transport  of  affection,  and  when 
he  fell  sick  waited  in  anxiety  the  issue,  and  fairly  kissed  the 
horse  of  the  messenger  that  brought  the  tidings  of  his  recov- 
ery. The  people  were  kinder,  braver,  better  than  the  king, 
and  so  they  always  are.  The  people  have  always  been  more 
fit  to  rule  themselves  than  any  Bourbon  has  been  fit  to  rule 
them.  The  poorest  and  rudest  commune  in  France  left  to 
regulate  its  village  affairs,  was  better  governed  than  any  Bour- 
bon ever  governed  France.  Even  during  the  reign  of  terror 
administrative  reforms  were  introduced  in  France  which  the 
Bourbons,  left  to  themselves,  would  not  have  compassed  in  a 
thousand  years. 

The  history  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  in  France  as  we  have 
given  it  is  the  history  of  a  failure.  It  is  the  hope  of  man- 
kind that  Bourbonism  will  everywhere  fail.  One  of  the  causes 
that  brings  about  its  fall,  is  that  it  arrays  against  itself  the  in- 


HOUSE  OF  BOURBON.  129 

telligence,  the  wit,  the  humor,  the  poetry  of  the  country.  All 
the  wit  of  France  was  arrayed  in  its  burnished  armor  against 
the  House  of  Bourbon,  before  its  bloody  fall.  Voltaire  said 
that  he  at  one  time  intended  to  write  a  book  which  should  be 
a  summary  of  human  depravity,  and  that  he  wrote,  "  Once 
there  was  a  tax-gatherer,"  and  quit,  and  all  bright  France 
laughed  at  and  applauded  the  sentiment.  The  satirist  is  sel- 
dom, the  wit  still  more  seldom,  and  the  humorist  never  on  the 
side  of  absolutism,  of  Bourbonism.  Poets  have  been  hired  be- 
fore now  to  sing  its  praises,  but  let  the  court  minstrel  clad  in 
silken  doublet  sing  ever  so  wisely,  and  some  poet  of  the  field, 
some  cottage  singer,  taught  by  free  bird  and  unfettered 
stream,  warbles. "  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that,"  and  draws  the 
world  away. 

Bourbonism  thus  assailed,  because  it  is  an  outrage  and  an 
insult  and  an  impertinence,  being  the  self-constituted  rule  of 
the  few  for  the  benefit  of  the  few  over  the  many,  always  resorts 
as  its  first  impulse  to  violence.  A  government  based  on  force, 
and  pursuing  force  as  its  first  instinct,  is  a  Bourbon  govern- 
ment. In  Bourbon  regions  it  is  a  soldier  at  this  corner,  a 
gensdarme  at  the  next,  and  the  space  between  filled  with  police 
and  spies.  It  makes  no  difference  whether  the  Bourbon  wears 
a  diadem  or  whether  his  hair  "reads  the  answer  in  the  stars" 
through  the  top  of  his  hat,  whether  the  emblem  of  his  power 
is  a  lettre  de  cachet  consigning  the  Protestant  to  the  darkness 
of  the  Bastile,  or  whether  it  is  a  tar-bucket  and  a  fence  rail  — 
the  Bourbon  idea  is  force,  always  force.  The  midnight  mes- 
senger of  the  king,  of  the  masked  riders  of  the  Ku-Klux,  are 
alike  the  representatives  of  Bourbonism.  A  gentleman  is  he 


130  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

who  rides  a  horse,  a  cavalier  with  a  sword  with  which  he  may 
cut  down  a  peasant  for  a  look.  He  who  has  no  horse,  no  sword, 
who  may  not  on  occasion  use  force  to  support  a  rule  of  force, 
is  not  a  gentleman,  and  has  no  part  in  the  government.  Yet 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  idea  is  maintained  occasionally  in 
a  civilized  country  by  civilized  men.  The  contest  in  this  world 
is  between  this  brutal  idea  and  the  movement  to  make  the 
cavalier  come  down  from  his  high  horse,  lay  aside  his  ever- 
ready  sword  and  take  part  with  his  fellow-citizens  in  a  govern- 
ment of  reason.  When  Bourbonism  is  not  in  a  condition  to 
use  open  it  uses  secret  violence,  for  where  it  may  have  no 
army  it  may  have  assassins.  And  where  this  is  too  dangerous, 
Bourbonism  attempts  a  war  of  words  and  indulges  in  peculiarly 
venomous  abuse  and  poisonous  slander.  The  real  wit  in  the 
contest,  the  fun  of  the  thing,  is  on  the  other  side;  the  real  in- 
telligence finally  drifts  there,  and  Bourbonism  gets  the  worst 
of  it.  Read  history  and  you  will  see  this.  Note  how  it  was  in 
England  before  the  passage  of  the  first  reform  bill,  and  of 
Catholic  emancipation.  Where  were  Tom  Moore  and  the  poets  ? 
Where  were  Sidney  Smith  and  the  wits  and  essayists? 

The  last  resort  of  Bourbonism  is  cant.  The  ruffian  and  the 
lampooner  turns  the  solicitous  guardian  of  public  order  and 
the  established  framework  of  society.  Bourbonism  mourns 
over  the  temporal  and  spiritual  dangers  of  the  emancipated 
slave,  turned  loose  in  a  world  full  of  temptation  without  the 
restraining  influence  of  a  godly  overseer  and  the  evangelizing 
ministry  of  a  cowhide.  Bourbons,  by-the-way,  always  believe 
freedom  for  other  people  a  failure.  The  Bourbon  countenance 
grows  sad  as  it  contemplates  the  high  wassail  which  grand- 


HOUSE  OF  BOURBON.  131 

father  and  grandmother  and  the  family  will  hold  around  the 
hearthstone  because  one  of  the  boys  has  been  deprived  by  law 
of  the  facilities  for  public  intoxication.  And  it  is  the  sleep 
of  Bourbonism  that  is  murdered  by  frightful  visions  of  chil- 
dren being  drowned  in  the  cistern,  or  blown  up  with  kerosene, 
and  shapes  hot  from  Tartarus  coming  in  to  crouch  by  the 
desolated  hearthstone  while  mother  runs  across  the  street  to 
vote. 

So  the  contest  goes  on  between  reason  and  beneficence  as 
against  worn  and  rusty  tyrannies,  lumbering  precedent  and 
the  effort  of  intrenched  evils  to  get  themselves  regarded  as 
vested  rights.  The  sound  you  hear  is  the  advancing  steps  of 
Freedom,  preceded  by  her  heralds  calling  "Clear  the  way." 
As  between  those  who  maintain  that  all  men  are  created  equal, 
and  are  everywhere  equal  to  the  duties  of  self-government,  and 
are  everywhere  improved  by  the  exercise  of  that  privilege;  and 
those  who  maintain  that  to  bear  rule  is  the  right  and  duty  of 
the  few,  and  who  everywhere  resist  any  extension  of  the  gov- 
erning powers;  who  believe  that  only  certain  classes  of  men 
are  fit  to  take  care  of  themselves,  and  who  hold  that  the  gov- 
ernment should  be  conducted  on  the  principle  of  a  church 
which  nobody  was  allowed  to  join  unless  there  was  a  vacancy; 
a  rule  which  long  prevailed  in  China,  and  has  been  lately  sug- 
gested for  the  United  States; — between  these  two  classes,  a 
decision  must  be  arrived  at  by  the  test  of  experience. 

In  a  matter  of  this  kind  it  is  allowable  to  bring  in  individ- 
ual experience.  That  is  always  evidence,  and  I  trust  I  shall 
not  lay  myself  open  to  any  charge  of  vanity  in  citing  what 
may  be  called  the  experience  of  a  family,  even  though  that 


132  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

family  be  my  own;  and  especially  as  the  story  is  told,  not  be- 
cause it  is  remarkable,  but  because  it  is  not;  because  it  is  the 
history  of  thousands  of  American  families;  an  average  his- 
tory. 

The  first  of  my  name  in  America  was  an  English  immigrant 
who  landed  on  the  shores  of  Massachusetts  Bay  in  1631.  He 
was  no  "lord  or  belted  knight,"  that  is  certain;  no  learned 
doctor  was  he  from  any  school;  the  "annals"  of  the  poor  man 
are  "short  and  simple;"  five  lines  from  the  old  record  comprise 
it  all.  He  "came  to  this  land,"  says  the  chronicler,  and  "en- 
dured much  bodily  affliction,"  and  died  and  left  behind  him  "a 
good  savor  of  godliness;"  and  this  one  thing  more,  "He  was 
made  a  Freeman."  He  had  undergone  no  special  education, 
nor  resided  in  the  country  for  a  long  time,  nor  did  he  possess 
an  extensive  property  qualification  which,  if  required,  would 
have  been  fatal  to  his  political  advancement,  as  well  as  that  of 
most  of  his  descendants  since,  but  he  was  "made  a  Freman." 
He  had  no  precedents  to  guide  him.  It  was  not  an  a^e  of 
freedom.  Louis  XIII  was  king  of  France;  Charles  I,  a  Bour- 
bon in  every  drop  of  his  blood,  was  king  of  England;  the  dark 
and  bloody  Wallenstein  was  ravaging  the  fields  and  cities  of 
Germany;  but  still  this  poor  invalid,  who,  in  a  government 
based  on  force  would  probably  have  not  been  counted  in,  was 
"made  a  Freeman,"  the  equal  partner  of  other  "Freemen"  in 
the  structure  of  the  state.  Thus  before  Hampden,  before 
•Cromwell,  this  humble  man  and  his  associates,  taking  upon 
themselves  the  title  of  Freemen,  established  a  free  government, 
made  war  and  peace,  preserved  order,  repressed  crime,  and 
laid  the  eternal  foundations  of  a  commonwealth.  The  son  of 


HOUSE   OF  BOUBBON.  133 

this  first  Freeman,  a  blacksmith,  went  with  others,  farmers, 
sailors,  and  mechanics,  through  the  wilderness,  and  his  forge- 
fire  first  lit  the  woods  and  rocks  and  waters  of  New  London; 
and  the  blacksmith,  as  he  shaped  the  glowing  iron,  shaped  in 
his  free  and  equal  brain  the  laws,  the  ordinances,  the  codes  and 
policies  of  the  infant  state  of  Connecticut.  This  Freeman's 
son  sailed  away  with  the  other  seafaring  men  of  that  coast, 
and  humbled  the  house  of  Bourbon  in  its  strong  fortress  of 
Lonisburg.  Later,  when  came  the  bloody  issue  between  the 
colonies  and  crown  —  English  Bourbonism  with  its  sword,  and 
American  Freedom  with  her  sword  —  two  lineal  descendants  of 
that  first  Freeman  died  in  the  ranks:  one  in  the  bloody  redoubt 
at  Bunker  Hill,  and  another  on  the  victorious  field  of  Saratoga. 
No  glittering  rewards  were  held  out  to  these,  no  seignorial 
grant  of  lands  attracted  the  first  emigrant;  no  dukedoms,  or 
stars,  or  garters,  or  largesses  of  any  sort  were  held  out  to  them 
later:  it  was  enough  to  live  and  die  Freemen.  So  for  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty-six  years  the  structure  reared  as  I  have  told  you 
without  a  model,  has  endured,  and  the  gates  of  hell  have  not 
prevailed  against  it.  That  plain,  strong  house  shelters  me  and 
my  children  as  it  sheltered  seven  generations  of  my  name  and 
race  before  me.  In  that  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  the  floods 
have  risen  and  the  winds  have  come,  and  the  rain  has  beaten 
on  the  house  of  Bourbon  and  it  has  fallen,  for  it  was  based  on 
the  shifting  sands  of  human  arrogance  and  pretense. 

The  government  of  American  freemen,  adopted  by  the  first 
handful  of  exiles  gathered  on  the  narrow  shore  between  the 
devouring  wilderness  and  the  hungry  sea,  has  proved  its  adapt- 
ability to  the  wants  and  needs  and  aspirations  of  common 


134  KANSAS-MISCELLANIES. 

men  by  over  two  centuries  and  a  half  of  trial.  It  has  enlisted, 
as  I  have  shown  yon,  the  affection  not  of  those  whose  "  trade 
is  royalty,"  but  the  bone  and  sinew;  the  farmer  in  his  furrow, 
the  blacksmith  at  his  anvil,  the  sailor  whistling  as  he  climbs. 
For  that  free  government,  and  that  it  might  be  kept  free, 
these  have  shed  their  freely-given  and  unpurchased  blood.  It 
has  grown  stronger  as  it  has  grown  more  free,  and  as  its  priv- 
ileges have  been  extended.  The  first  Freeman  in  the  family 
story  which  I  have  given  you  was  required  to  be  a  member  of 
the  church;  the  community  being,  by  express  understanding, 
a  religions  as  well  as  a  civil  society.  In  a  short  time  the 
religious  test  was  removed,  and  we  have  gone  on  making 
"Freemen"  and  removing  restrictions  ever  since — -religious 
restrictions,  property  restrictions,  race  restrictions,  and  now 
the  restriction  of  sex,  and  the  country  is  stronger  and  better 
for  it.  We  have  not  torn  down  the  old  house  —  we  have  only 
made  it  roomier  and  more  comfortable. 

In  the  over  two  hundred  and  fifty-six  years  but  one  serious 
danger  has  ever  menaced  our  government,  and  that  came  in 
the  shape  of  a  revolt  in  favor  of  the  House  of  Bourbon.  In 
the  mid'dle  of  the  Nineteenth  century  there  came  an  attempt 
to  set  up  over  against  this  free  government  an  aristocracy, 
based,  like  every  aristocracy,  on  slavery.  It  came  on  with  all 
the  oW  cries;  the  old  assumptions  of  chivalry  and  snperiority 
of  blood  and  lineage ;  its  banners  were  blessed  by  the  old 
priests  with  the  ancient  benedictions,  and  it  failed.  And 
amid  the  crash  of  its  fall  was  heard  the  voice  of  the  humbly- 
born,  raised  to  the  summit  of  the  State,  proclaiming  a  gov- 
ernment of  the  people,  by  the  people,  forever  and  forever. 


HOUSE  OF  BOUBBON.  135 

For  myself,  as  one  American  citizen,  I  have  no  fears  of 
freedom.  I  fear  nothing  except  Pharisaism,  exclusivism,  re- 
actionism,  Bourbonism.  I  fear  the  ballot  nowhere.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  it  in  a  black  hand,  I  am  not  afraid  of  it  even  in  my 
wife's  hand.  I  do  not  fear,  either,  that  too  many  will  come  to 
this  blessed  land  to  enjoy  its  sun  or  its  soil  or  its  freedom.  It 
is  not  for  me  to  shut  out  from  this  land,  where  the  poor  Eng- 
lish emigrant  of  the  Seventeenth  century  brought  his  broken 
body  but  undaunted  soul,  to  find  a  grave  for  one  and  free- 
dom for  the  other,  it  is  not  for  me  in  the  Nineteenth  century 
to  shut  out  from  this  land  a  single  human  being  who^  seeks, 
as  he  did,  to  be  "made  a  Freeman."  There  is  in  my  opinion, 
no  more  danger  of  this  country  being  conquered  or  its  liber- 
ties overthrown  by  the  advent  of  the  foreign-born,  than  of  its 
invasion  by  the  armies  of  Gog  and  Magog;  and  as  to  the  An- 
archists, this  great,  strong,  powerful  country  is  in  the  same 
danger  from  them  that  it  is  from  a  sudden  concerted  outbreak 
of  all  the  maniacs  in  the  United  States  from  the  walls  of  their 
respective  asylums.  Anarchism  is  the  ague  that  arises  from 
the  swamps  of  Bourbonism,  and  the  just  and  reasonable  en- 
forcement of  law  is  the  quinine  that  will  "break"  it. 

Bonrbonism  bears  in  itself  the  seeds  of  death.  Freedom 
drinks  at  the  waters  of  Eternal  Life.  Bourbonism  goes, 
Freedom  comes.  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains,  0  Lib- 
erty, are  thy  advancing  feet ! 


A  KANSAS  HAS-BEEN.* 


IT  has  just  been  the  fortune  of  the  writer  for  once,  at  least, 
to  obey  the  commandment  and  make  the  Sabbath  a  day  of 
rest,  in  a  town  above  all  others  in  Kansas  best  adapted  to  com- 
posure of  body  and  soul,  though  once  the  noisiest,  the  fiercest 
and  most  generally  torn  up  little  burg  west  of  the  Missouri. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  go  further  with  the  description  to 
enable  an  old  Kansan  to  guess  the  truth  —  that  the  town  re- 
ferred to  is  Lecompton. 

The  "guide,  philosopher  and  friend"  of  the  day  and  the 
place  was  "Joe  Fluff er,"  who,  though  a  young  man,  may  be 
styled  the  "Old  Mortality"  of  Lecompton,  who  has  lived 
within  hearing  of  Lecompton  for  the  better  part  of  his  days, 
and  who,  for  twelve  years  last  past,  has  gathered  there  the 
"sum  of  his  possessions  and  fortunes;'1  whose  children  are 
natives  of  the  place,  and  who,  though  adding  to  his  other  points 
of  resemblance  to  St.  Paul,  the  fact  that  his  life  is  spent  in 
"journeyings  oft,"  returns  from  each  pilgrimage  to  his  Le- 
compton home  with  the  multitudinous  little  cedars,  and  the 
three  big  coffee  bean  trees,  which  nature,  in  a  sudden  fit  of 
order,  set  out  one  day  in  a  straight  row,  and  exactly  the  same 
distance  apart.  Here  our  friend  sits  on  his  "  front  stoop " 
and  gazes  betimes  at  the  hills  and  hollows  and  houses  of  the 

*  From  the  Atchison  Champion,  September  26, 1882. 
(136) 


A  KANSAS  H AS-BEEN.  137 

town.  And  more,  he  can  shut  his  eyes  and  see  Lecompton 
just  as  it  has  looked  on  any  day  in  the  last  twenty  years.  He 
can  go  in  the  darkest  night  to  any  designated  spot  in  the  old 
mile  square  that  formed  the  original  limits  of  the  town;  can 
point  out  the  else  unseen  loose  lines  of  stones  overgrown  with 
brush,  that  mark  the  foundations  of  houses  that  disappeared 
utterly  and  forever  years  ago;  and  can  stand  on  some  high  hill 
and  point  to  any  historic  spot,  from  old  Gen.  Brindle's  print- 
ing-office to  the  grave  of  Sherrard,  who  died  in  one  of  the  polit- 
ical brawls  that  marked  the  early  days  of  Lecompton  —  and 
there  are  no  days  at  Lecompton  except  early  days.  Every 
visitor  links  it  with  the  past,  and  of  those  who  made  the  "  Sab- 
bath day's  journey"  here  recorded,  one  was  a  lady  who  saw 
the  place  first  and  last  as  a  stage-sick  little  girl  taking  her 
first  journey  in  Kansas,  from  Leavenworth  to  Topeka,  twenty- 
three  years  ago. 

The  railroad  has  wound  along  the  rocky  bluffs  that  wash 
their  feet  in  the  river  at  Lecompton  for  a  good  many  years  as 
time  is  counted  in  Kansas,  but  for  a  long  time  the  railroad 
company  refused  to  recognize  the  place  as  alive,  and  nothing 
but  a  platform  greeted  the  traveler,  but  at  last  a  station-house 
has  been  built,  where  two  active  and  courteous  young  men 
keep  watch  and  ward  over  the  slowly-developing  freight  and 
passenger  business  of  the  neighborhood,  but  no  hotel  runners, 
no  hacks,  no  clamor  of  any  sort  meets  you  at  the  station.  The 
flowing  river  is  not  more  still  than  the  surroundings.  A  wagon- 
road  exists,  but  the  traveler  is  liable  to  overlook  it  and  clam- 
ber up  the  sides  of  a  rock  quarry  and  so  across  bare  commons 
and  through  hazel  patches  up  to  the  straggling  town,  with  its 


138  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

maze  of  weed-grown  lanes,  and  rail  fences,  and  old  houses,  and 
some  new  ones,  and  cabbage  gardens,  and  little  vineyards,  all 
piled  in  like  furniture  in  an  express  wagon  on  moving-day. 

The  story  is  not  yet  forgotten  about  the  man  who  became 
possessed  with  the  street-car  rhyme  about  "Punch  with  care," 
and  so,  going  along,  the  line  from  the  "  Deserted  Village  "  en- 
tered our  mind  and  there  remained : 

"With  blossoming  furze  unprofitably  gay." 

Of  course  there  is  no  furze  in  Lecompton,  nor  in  the  United 
States,  as  far  as  known ;  there  was  nothing  but  sand-burs, 
and  jimsons  in  a  state  of  dry  and  rattling  raggedness,  and  the 
coarse  and  nameless  yellow  flowers  that  betoken  the  coming 
on  of  autumn ;  but  still  the  words  came,  "  With  blossoming 
furze,"  and  then  a  break  made  by  a  question  or  some  sudden 
turn  in  the  conversation,  and  then  with  silence  came,  with  a 
following  echo,  "unprofitably  gay,  unprofitably  gay." 

There  was  no  living  thing  passed  on  the  walk  up  from  the 
depot,  save  the  most  emaciated  and  listless  of  young  colts, 
which  somebody,  with  a  fine  sense  of  humor,  had  decorated 
with  a  halter,  as  if  there  was  the  slightest  danger  that  he  would 
ever  break,  or  pull,  or  run,  or  even  walk  away.  He  came  in 
naturally  with  the  rest  of  the  landscape,  the  sun-burned  grass, 
and  the  "blossoming  furze,  unprofitably  gay." 

When  we  had  reached  the  porch  of  Senator  Greene,  for 
"  Fluff er"  also  wears  the  toga  and  sits  in  the  curule  chair, 
and  has  the  fasces  borne  before  him  and  all  that,  as  a  Sena- 
tor from  Douglas  county,  we  had  a  chance  to  observe  how  ad- 
mirable for  situation  was  Lecompton.  The  plan  of  nature  is 
an  amphitheater  of  wooded  hills  —  they  were  once  covered 


A  KANSAS  HAS-BEEN.  139 

with  great  oaks,  growing  free  and  shady,  without  incumber- 
ing  underbrush  —  and  in  the  center  of  the  amphitheater  rises 
a  hill  as  high  as  those  surrounding  it,  and  sloping  to  the  river, 
and  on  the  crest  of  this  was  to  stand  the  capitol  of  Kansas. 
On  this  spot  the  edifice  was  actually  begun,  and  $30,000  of  the 
money  of  the  United  States  was  here  expended.  Here,  too, 
the  greatest  change  had  been  made  in  the  latter-day  ap- 
pearance of  Lecompton.  On  the  old  foundation,  though  cov- 
ering but  half  of  it,  rises  a  new  and  spacious  stone  building, 
glaring  with  fresh  lime  and  a  bright  roof,  the  newest  thing  in 
Lecompton.  It  is  the  new  building  of  "Lane  University." 
This  school  was  founded  years  ago  by  the  United  Brethren  in 
Christ,  a  small  Church,  inheriting  the  saintly  traditions  of  the 
Moravians,  an  outgrowth  of  that  holy  society  which  carried 
its  doctrines  to  the  frozen  mountains  of  Greenland  and  the 
burning  plains  of  India;  which  made  Wesley  a  religious  re- 
former and  organizer;  which  penetrated  the  forests  of  Amer- 
ica and  turned  the  fierce  Indian  to  an  unresisting  gentleness 
which  was  rewarded  by  the  massacre  of  Gnadenhutten,  the 
most  frightful  chapter  in  American  history,  the  most  brutal 
deed  ever  done  by  men  professing  to  be  civilized  Christians. 
The  United  Brethren  started  at  Lecompton  and  have  main- 
tained for  years  their  school.  For  a  long  time  the  school  was 
gathered  in  an  old  Lecompton  hotel,  famous  once  as  the  Row- 
ena  House,  but  now  the  academicians  dwell  in  this  structure, 
erected  as  we  have  said,  on  the  foundation  laid  in  the  old  days 
when  the  Government  of  the  United  States  was  a  fraud,  back- 
ing violence  in  support  of  slavery.  The  school  lives;  I  do  not 
know  that  it  exactly  flourishes,  but  it  lives.  A  small  Church 


140  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

like  the  United  Brethren  is  more  closely  banded  together  and 
more  willing  to  make  sacrifices  for  its  own  than  a  more  nu- 
merous and  wealthy  body.  So  it  will  not  be  surprising  if  this 
school  lives  many,  many  years  to  kindle  the  torch  of  learning 
to  be  carried  far  and  wide  by  many  hands. 

Certainly  a  more  beautiful  site  could  not  be  found.  From 
the  high  windows  the  young  men  and  maidens  look  over  the 
fairest  of  Kansas  landscapes  —  and  there  are  no  fairer. 

The  afternoon  wore  on  amid  talk  and  laughter,  which,  how- 
ever, it  is  hoped  did  not  disturb  the  appropriate  stillness  of 
the  place  or  shock  any  pious  heart,  since  the  subdued  hilarity 
gladdened  the  hearts  of  a  little  company  of  human  beings 
ranging  in  years  from  three  to  eighty-three  years. 

All  the  hills  around  Lecompton  are  covered  with  forest,  to 
which  the  drouth  has  given  the  somber  hues  of  autumn,  with- 
out the  gorgeous  tints  which  are  worked  by  the  frost.  The 
brown  and  russet  and  grayish  green  of  the  trees  conveyed  an 
impression  of  sadness,  and  framed  in  these  fading  woods  rose 
a  ruin,  as  it  seemed  to  be,  a  roofless  church  of  stone.  The  ruin, 
however,  is  not  that  of  a  house  once  completed  and  so  convey- 
ing a  sense  of  something  lost.  It  marks  the  hour  when  the 
palsy  struck  Lecompton.  On  this  now  wild  and  overgrown 
hillside  the  Catholic  Church,  which  rarely  makes  mistakes  of 
business,  essayed  to  rear  one  of  its  altars.  The  end  came,  and 
the  walls  of  the  church,  raised  for  the  roof,  were  abandoned  by 
the  workmen  forever.  It  will  never  know  the  thread  of  priestly 
feet,  the  smoke  of  censer,  the  light  of  candle,  or  the  sound  of 
bell.  Near  by  is  a  house  built  for  the  priest,  but  for  years  left 
to  the  care  of  first  one  poor  tenant  then  another.  We  walked 


A  KANSAS  HAS-BEEN.  141 

over  to  the  "ruined  fane."  Where  it  was  hoped  and  fondly  be- 
lieved would  be  a  paved  and  crowded  street,  there  wound  only 
a  yellow  country  road.  At  one  place  a  wide  culvert  was 
crossed.  We  should  not  have  noticed  it  had  not  our  faithful 
guide  called  attention.  That  culvert  cost  the  United  States 
$1,000  in  gold.  It  was  in  the  "earlier  and  purer  days  of  the 
republic,"  that  that  robbery  was  committed;  twenty-odd  years 
nearer  Jackson  than  we  are  now.  Passing  over  the  ancient 
fraud,  we  left  the  road  entirely,  and  tramped  through  thickets 
and  great  growth  of  weeds,  and  stood  within  the  walls  of  the 
old  unfinished  church.  One  wall  had  fallen  in,  and  gaps  had 
opened  in  places,  but,  as  conscious  of  protection,  birds  had 
built  their  nests  in  the  crevices  of  the  wall,  and  raised  their 
young  in  the  abandoned  sanctuary.  But  framed  in  the  open- 
ings for  the  windows  looking  to  the  westward  were  such 
clouds,  such  hills,  such  evening  shadows  as  painters  cross  the 
sea  to  find.  Here  was  the  village  spire  rising  among  the 
trees;  here  a  shining  glimpse  of  the  winding  river;  here  the 
white  road  winding  adown  the  steep;  and  above  all  such  a  sky 
as  never  Italy  knew.  That  same  view,  3,000  or  4,000  miles 
away,  with  perhaps  some  slight  accessories — a  castled  tower; 
the  sharp  pinnacle  of  some  old  chateau — would  wake  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  American  artist,  or  poet;  but  it  was  only  at 
poor  old  Lecompton,  in  and  for  the  county  of  Douglas  and 
State  of  Kansas. 

Led  by  the  indefatigable  Albert,  we  went  to  the  top  of  the 
hill  and  through  a  newly-cleared  field  cut  out  of  the  woods, 
and  saw,  in  the  near  distance,  a  large,  hip-roofed  house.  It 
was  built  by  Frederick  P.  Stanton,  when  Secretary  of  the  Ter- 


142  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

ritory  of  Kansas.  In  his  mind,  Mr.  Stanton  saw  Lecompton 
an  opulent  metropolis,  and  built  this  great  house  where  he 
thought  to  be  convenient  to  the  forum  and  the  mart,  and  yet 
out  of  the  noise  and  whirl  of  business.  The  house,  for  the 
time,  was  strongly  and  massively  built;  it  was  esteemed  a  sort 
of  baronial  residence,  but  the  fashion  of  politics  passeth  away; 
Mr.  Stanton  long  since  left  Kansas,  the  stage  on  which  he  was 
for  a  time  so  conspicuous  a  figure,  and  the  house  was  left  to 
itself;  its  occupants  are  shifting  and  inconstant,  and  it  even 
has  the  reputation  of  being  haunted. 

Pointing  to  the  northwest  across  the  river, the  "delineator" 
explained  .that  there  existed  a  Mormon  graveyard.  According 
to  tradition,  a  party  of  these  unfortunate  and  misguided  peo- 
ple, bound  westward,  were  overtaken  at  this  place  by  some 
officious  Missonrians  who  claimed  that  they  were  endeavoring 
to  escape  military  duty  in  the  Mexican  war.  Of  the  men, 
many  were  apparently  frightened  or  cajoled  into  enlisting  ; 
the  women  were  left  almost  alone  to  pursue  their  long  jour- 
ney ;  with  the  other  troubles  came  sickness,  and  many  went 
away,  not  to  Utah,  but  to  the  "  silent  land."  This  was  the 
story  as  it  was  told — whether  it  be  true  or  no — under  the 
gentle  and  pitying  sky  of  evening. 

Poining  to  the  northeast,  the  line  of  cottonwoods  was 
dimly  discerned  that  mark  Stonehouse  creek,  where  it  is 
claimed  the  first  white  settlement  of  Kansas  was  made.  It 
was  a  trading-post.  One  of  the  traders  was  a  Boone,  a  son  or 
grandson  of  Daniel  Boone,  and  there  exists,  or  did  exist, 
some  years  ago,  a  well  walled  up  with  cut  stone,  the  work  be- 


A  KANSAS  HAS-BEEN.  143 

ing  done  at  the  expense  of  the  nursing  mother  of  Territories, 
the  United  States  treasury. 

,  Next  we  went  down  through  the  woods  along  what  was  a 
mere  trace,  a  narrow  grass-grown  path,  abruptly  crossed  at 
one  place  by  a  barbed  wire  of  the  newest  and  sharpest  kind. 
This  was  once  the  main  road  from  Lawrence  to  Lecompton, 
and  coming  in  on  this  road  with  a  couple  of  six-pounders, 
Gen.  Lane,  and  that  better  and  braver  man,  Col.  Sam.  Walker, 
bluffed  the  authorities  at  Lecompton  into  compliance  with 
their  wishes. 

On  these  hills,  on  the  down-river  side  of  the  town,  live  a 
good  many  colored  people  of  the  rural  order.  It  is  a  singular 
circumstance,  but  these  primitive  black  folks  are  always  found 
haunting  the  vicinage  of  all  the  old  pro-slavery  towns  of  Kan- 
sas. Why  they  do  this,  nobody  ever  has  satisfactorily  ex- 
plained. One  would  suppose  that  they  would  have  hunted  the 
the  "citadels  of  freedom"  at  Lawrence.  But  no,  here  th^ey 
are,  where  dwelt  those  who  fondly  hoped  to  be  called  "master," 
and  have  their  drinks  brought  to  them  on  a  waiter  by  "my 
yeller  boy."  These  dark  reminders  of  the  "patriarchal  sys- 
tem "  have  their  little  farms  and  garden  patches  around  Le- 
compton, sending  their  children  to  school  like  other  Kansans, 
and  on  Sunday  they  pray  and  preach  and  sing  at  the  public 
school-house. 

Thus  did  we  go  round  about  Lecompton  and  so  back  like 
a  surveyor's  line,  "to  the  place  of  beginning,"  just  as  the 
lights  were  shining  in  the  windows  of  the  town.  Then,  like 
good  people,  we  all  went  to  church.  The  spacious  hall  of  the 
University  was  quite  splendid  with  chandeliers,  and  a  fine 


144  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

congregation  of  solid-looking  people,  with  several  old  men 
with  German  names,  who  set  one  to  thinking  about  Count 
Zinzendorf ;  and  their  singing  of  the  modern  sort,  harmoni- 
ous, though  without  musical  accompaniment,  and  a  sermon 
by  a  thoughtful  young  man  who  was  an  observer  of  nature  — 
because  he  used  as  an  illustration  a  lizard  he  had  discovered 
under  a  Lecompton  rock  —  and  with  poetry  in  his  soul,  be- 
cause he  quoted  "Evangeline";  and  it  was  well,  for  a  man 
who  has  no  eyes  for  the  world  around  him,  and  no  imagina- 
tion, withal,  has  no  "call"  to  preach. 

That  night,  at  the  bright  supper-table,  the  talk  was  of 
apples,  brought  on  by  the  presence  of  some  fine  specimens  of 
Kansas  growth,  and  the  host,  taking  up  one,  said  that  there 
was  once  a  man  down  South,  during  the  war,  who  hated  every- 
thing Yankee  so  much  that  he  did  not  like  to  hear  the  North 
Star  mentioned,  who  yet  bowed  in  reverence  to  the  "Rhode 
Island  Greening,"  the  apple  exhibited  to  the  company,  and 
raised  in  Lecompton.  And  this  led  to  what  may  be  called  the 
resurrection  of  Lecompton.  The  "metropolis"  idea  being 
abandoned,  the  people  who  might  otherwise  have  lived  in 
town  went  on  their  farms  and  into  their  orchards,  and  so  has 
grown  up  around  some  of  the  finest  orchards  and  vineyards. 
The  lamentations  of  the  Douglas  County  Horticultural  So- 
ciety have  not  prevented  Douglas  from  being  a  fruit  county, 
or  one  orchardist  not  far  from  Lecompton  shipping  in  one 
season  25,000  bushels  of  apples  to  Colorado.  The  railroad 
has  made  the  discovery  that  Lecompton  is  a  good  shipping 
point,  and  so  the  country  grows  apace  and  reacts  on  the  town, 
and  new  houses  are  not  infrequent,  and  the  waste  places  shall 


A  KANSAS  HAS-BEEN.  145 

be  made  glad  in  time,  and  there  will  not  be  quite  so  much  un- 
profitable vegetable  gayety  in  the  neighborhood. 

At  midnight,  under  a  moon  that  shone  like  an  electric 
light,  we  wended  our  way  along  the  silent  street  of  the  town, 
and  it  chanced  that  we  lifted  up  our  eyes  and  beheld  a 
weather-beaten,  two-story  frame  building,  which  even  the 
"fairy  moonlight"  could  not  brighten  or  soften,  and  this  was 
"Constitutional  Hall." 

Oh,  the  constitutional  conventionists  of  Lecompton ;  how 
statesmanlike  they  thought  themselves,  as  they  gathered  in 
this  frame  house.  How  shrewd  they  thought  that  dodge  of 
submitting  the  "Constitution  with  slavery"  and  the  "Consti- 
tution without  slavery."  How  they  were  going  to  "calm  the 
agitation "  and  save  the  Union,  and  suppress  the  fanatical 
abolitionists  and  soothe  the  throes  of  the  approaching  earth- 
quake, and  quiet  the  thunder  and  saddle  and  bridle  the  storm. 
How  they  made  this  old  shell  echo,  and  how  they  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  their  Websterian  foreheads,  and  thought 
they  had  completely  and  everlastingly  "done  it,"  and  how  it  all 
ended  in  a  bad  smell,  and  the  story  of  a  candle-box  hid  in  a 
woodpile.  Such  is  the  "unprofitable  gayety"  of  statesmen, 
which  considerably  discounts  the  "blossoming  furze." 

The  railroad  curves  and  winds  and  hugs  the  bluff  to  pass 
Lecompton,  and  so  we  stood  on  the  platform,  and  listened  to 
the  rumble,  which  seemed  near,  but  was  really  miles  away  ; 
then  a  light  flashed,  disappeared  and  flashed  again,  and  then 
was  lost  once  more.  The  first  flash  was  seen  three  miles  away, 
and  then  the  intermittent  rumble  grew  into  a  low,  steady  roar, 
and  grew  louder  and  louder,  and  then  the  flash  was  near  at 
10 


146  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

hand,  making  the  rails  for  a  long  way  ahead  shine  like  molten 
silver,  and  then  there  was  a  scream  and  a  pause,  and  a  clang- 
ing bell  and  another  rush,  and  Lecompton  was  left  to  silence 
and  to  sleep. 


THE  MENNONITES  AT  HOME.* 


TALKING  the  other  day  with  Mr.  C.  B.  Schmidt,  the  for- 
eign missionary  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe", 
we  asked  him  concerning  the  present  whereabouts  and  pros- 
pects of  the  last  detachment  of  Mennonite  immigrants  from 
Russia,  whose  arrival  was  recently  chronicled  in  the  Common- 
wealth, whereupon  Mr.  S.  suggested  that  the  questioner  visit 
the  Mennoriites  and  enable  himself  to  answer  his  own  ques- 
tion. The  suggestion  was  unanimously  adopted. 

The  features  of  the  country  between  Topeka  and  Newton 
are  tolerably  familiar,  and  do  not  need  description.  Going 
down,  however,  the  writer  noticed  a  remarkable  illustration  of 
the  heavenly  influence  of  music.  A  stout,  middle-aged  woman 
on  board  had  with  her  two  and  a  half  seats  filled  with  chil- 
dren. One  of  them,  a  girl,  kept  up  a  steady  succession  of  the 
most  ear-piercing  yells  that  ever  made  an  old  bachelor  wish  he 
were  dead.  This  young  lady  led  the  rest  of  the  family  in  a 
continual  chorus  of  shrieks,  save  one,  a  youth  of  about  three 
years,  who  was  provided  with  a  "mouth-organ,"  or  harmonica, 
which  he  played  all  the  time,  with  an  occasional  vacation  of 
about  a  minute  and  a  half  for  breathing  purposes.  While  his 
brethren  and  sisters  were  bathed  in  tears,  and  almost  silenc- 
ing the  rumbling  of  the  train  with  their  outcries,  he  sat,  as 

*  From  the  Topeka  Commonwealth,  August  20, 1875. 
(147) 


148  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

happy  as  he  could  be  in  a  vain  world  like  this,  and  played  and 
played  and  played,  illustrating  the  great  truth  that  "music 
hath  charms  to  soothe  the  savage  breast." 

From  melody  to  sweetness  is  a  natural  transition,  which 
recalls  the  fact  that  Mr.  A.  F.  Homer  was  a  fellow-passenger, 
and  informed  us  that  he  had  just  shipped  sixty-two  barrels 
and  the  requisite  cane-crushing  machinery  down  the  road, 
and  proposed  to  make  sorghum  on  a  scale  of  unprecedented 
magnitude.  In  view  of  this,  the  destruction  of  the  levees  in 
Louisiana  is  not  such  a  serious  calamity  to  us. 

The  original  objective  point  of  the  trip  was  Halstead, 
where  Mr.  B.  Warkentin,  a  Mennonite,  has  a  fine  flouring  mill; 
but  circumstances  changed  cases,  so  that  our  railroad  jour- 
ney ended  at  Newton.  Mr.  Warkentin,  by-the-way,  was  met 
on  the  train  going  down,  with  his  bride,  a  young  lady  from 
Summerfield,  St.  Glair  county,  Illinois.  The  bridegroom, 
bride,  two  brothers-in-law  and  a  sister  of  the  bride,  made  up 
a  gay  party. 

In  the  morning  bright  and  early  the  "outfit"  started  from 
Newton.  Like  Mr.  G.  A.  Sala's  trip  to  Russia,  ours  was  "A 
Journey  Due  North,"  over  the  prairie  and  over  a  road  now 
used  almost  exclusively  by  the  Mennonite  settlers;  in  fact  the 
first  team  we  met  was  that  of  a  Mennonite  who  was  going  to 
Newton  with  a  wagon-load  of  watermelons.  He  very  politely 
handed  over  a  melon,  selecting  one  which  he  said  was  of  Rus- 
sian origin.  It  was  a  very  fine  one,  and  we  anticipate  great 
pleasure  on  our  next  visit  to  St.  Petersburg  in  sitting  on  a 
store-box  in  front  of  the  Imperial  palace  and  eating  such  a 
melon  with  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis.  And  this  brings  up  the 


THE  MENNONITES  AT  HOME.  149 

great  subject  of  watermelons,  as  connected  with  the  Mennon- 
ite  immigration. 

The  Mennonites  have  a  decided  preference  for  watermelons 
over  every  other  "fruit."  They  call  the  melon  "arboosen," 
though  we  would  not  be  willing  to  certify  that  this  is  the  cor- 
rect spelling.  The  last  detachment  happened  to  arrive  at 
Atchison  on  Saturday  —  market-day,  and  among  the  first  ob- 
jects they  saw  were  the  big  Kansas  watermelons.  They  "went 
for  them  then  and  thar,"  and  felt  that  they  had  reached  the 
"happy  land  of  Canaan."  Unless  some  other  State  can  raise 
larger  watermelons  than  Kansas  —  which  some  other  State 
can't  —  the  future  Mennonite  immigration  will  be  directed 
hitherward.  This  fondness  for  watermelons  and  a  watermelon 
country  are  an  indication  of  the  peaceable  and  sensible  char- 
acter of  the  Mennonite  people.  The  American  prefers  to 
migrate  to  a  country  where  he  has  a  chance  to  be  eaten  up  by 
grizzlies  and  chased  by  wolves,  and  can  exercise  his  bowie- 
knife  on  the  active  red  man,  while  the  Mennonite  sees  no  fun 
in  danger,  abhors  war,  and  so  seeks  out  a  fertile,  peaceable 
country,  where  he  buries  his  glittering  steel,  not  in  the  hearts 
of  his  enemies,  but  in  the  bowels  of  the  luscious  watermelon. 

The  first  Mennonite  residence  reached  was  that  of  "Bishop" 
Buller,  who  is  not  a  bishop  at  all,  as  the  Mennonites  recognize 
but  one  order  in  their  ministry,  that  of  "  elder,"  who  is  elected 
by  the  congregation,  and  is  usually  a  farmer  like  the  rest.  At 
Mr.  Buller's  we  saw  an  evidence  of  progress.  One  of  the  stone 
rollers  which  were  procured  to  thresh  grain  was  lying  in  the 
yard,  while  a  short  distance  away  was  an  American  threshing- 
machine  in  full  blast. 


150  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Mr.  Buller  accompanied  us  to  the  residence  of  Abraham 
Reimer,  where  a  council  was  being  held  relating  to  some  busi- 
ness with  the  railroad  company. 

The  establishment  of  Mr.  Reimer,  who  is  a  leading  man 
among  his  people  and  who  left  a  fine  property  in  Russia,  af- 
forded a  good  idea  of  what  Mennonite  thrift  has  already  ac- 
complished in  Kansas.  Mr.  Reimer's  house  was  a  substantial 
frame  structure  with  two  large  barns,  and  at  the  rear  of  it 
numerous  stacks  of  grain  arranged  in  a  semi-circle.  A  stout 
boy  and  girl  were  engaged  near  by  in  stacking  hay,  the  young 
lady  officiating  on  top  of  the  stack.  That  the  Mennonite,  the 
female  Mennonite,  is  not  destitute  of  an  eye  for  the  beautiful, 
was  shown  by  a  well-kept  flower  garden  at  the  end  of  the 
house.  It  is  true  that  the  flowers  were  arranged  in  straight 
rows  and  were  such  floral  old-timers  as  pinks,  marigolds  and 
the  like,  but,  after  all,  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  ar- 
rayed as  one  of  these. 

Out  in  the  dooryard  there  was  that  queer  blending  of  races 
often  seen  in  Kansas.  There  were  Mennonites,  and  in  the 
midst  was  a  horse-trader  of  the  usual  American  type,  and 
with  him  a  young  colored  man  who  spoke  German  and  acted  as 
interpreter.  An  object  of  interest  to  all  except  the  Mennon- 
ites, was  a  Russian  farm -wagon,  noticeable  for  its  short 
coupling,  narrow  "track,"  flaring  bed  painted  green,  and  a 
profusion  of  blacksmith's  work  all  over.  The  horse-trader 
intimated  that  the  American  eagle  would  not  condescend  to 
ride  in  such  a  wagon. 

The  interior  of  the  house,  as  we  have  said,  consisted  of  two 
rooms,  as  yet  unplastered,  looking  like  the  apartments  of  any 


THE  MENNONITES  AT  HOME.  151 

thrifty  settler  who  has  not  yet  had  time  to  plaster  his  walls. 
The  only  "foreign  contrivance"  to  attract  a  stranger's  notice 
was  the  bedstead  and  bedding,  the  latter  piled  up  in  a  high 
stack  when  not  in  use,  and  covered  over  with  a  calico  "spread." 
The  top  of  the  high,  narrow  pile  resembled  in  shape  a  coffin, 
and  conveyed  the  unpleasant  impression  to  the  visitor  that  he 
had  arrived  just  in  time  for  a  funeral.  In  the  "best  room" 
the  meeting  was  in  progress.  The  room  was  quite  full,  and 
the  visages  of  all  present  were  as  immovable  as  the  green-and- 
gold  face  of  a  Russian  clock  that  ticked  on  the  wall.  These 
clocks  are  seen  everywhere.  They  sport  a  long  pendulum 
with  a  disk  as  big  as  a  buckwheat  cake,  and  long,  heavy  hang- 
ing weights  of  brass.  There  was  not  a  newspaper  or  periodi- 
cal in  sight,  and  no  books  save  a  black-covered  German  Bible, 
according  to  the  version  of  Dr.  Martin  Luther,  and  several 
Mennonite  hymn-books;  these  last  were  bound  in  leather  and 
printed  in  Odessa.  There  were  few  relics  of  Russia  to  be 
seen,  especially*  no  pictures  of  any  sort.  In  every  kitchen, 
however,  there  is  a  Russian  teakettle  —  a  large  affair  of  cop- 
per, lined  with  tin;  and  at  "Bishop"  Buller's  we  saw  some 
wooden  bowls,  curiously  painted  and  gilded.  They  are  very 
common  in  Russia,  and  the  smaller  sizes  sell  for  three  cents 
each.  The  Mennonite  in  Russia  beats  the  Yankee  in  the 
wooden-ware  line. 

After  the  council  had  broken  up,  dinner  followed,  being 
neat  and  clean.  The  leading  features  were  fried  cakes,  the 
English  name  of  which  appeared  to  be  "roll-cake;"  then  there 
was  black  rye  bread — very  good — and  excellent  butter.  We 
should  not  omit  to  add  that  there  was  also  watermelon. 


152  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Everything  indicated  that  the  Mennonite  is  "fixed;"  he  is  a 
good  liver,  and  hospitable  in  any  event. 

We  finally  took  leave  of  Abraham  Reimer,  who  shook  hands 
cordially,  though  he  did  not  kiss  Mr.  Schmidt  as  he  did  the 
Mennonite  brethren  when  they  left.  The  luxury  of  men  kiss- 
ing each  other  appears  to  be  exclusively  confined  to  the  Men- 
nonite Church, 

We  left  the  Reimer  settlement  for  Gnadenau  by  way  of 
Hoffnungsthal.  The  Reimer  settlement  is  called  New  Alex- 
anderwohl,  or  New  Alexander's  health.  Healthy  Alexander  is 
synonymous  with  smart  Alexander.  Hence,  New  Alexander- 
wohl  may  easily  and  beautifully  be  translated  into  New  Smart- 
aleckville.  A  few  miles  further  east  along  the  south  branch  of 
the  Cottonwood  is  a  row  of  grass-thatched  shanties  called 
Hoffnungsthal.  The  settlers  here  are  poor,  and  the  name  of 
the  town  signifies  "The  Valley  of  Hope."  The  settlers  live  in 
hope.  Next  in  order  comes  the  admirably-located  town  of 
Gnadenau.  Mr.  Schmidt  seemed  "mixed"  as  to  the  meaning 
of  this  word,  and  we  are  not  positive  whether  it  signifies 
"Valley  of  Grace,"  or  "The  place  from  which  a  fine  prospect 
can  be  seen." 

We  drove  across  an  immensity  of  newly-broken  prairie  be- 
fore we  arrived  at  the  acres  of  sod  corn  and  watermelons  which 
mark  the  corporation  line  of  Gnadenau.  The  houses  of  Gnade- 
nau present  every  variety  of  architecture,  but  each  house  is 
determined  on  one  thing,  to  keep  on  the  north  side  of  the  one 
street  of  the  town  and  face  to  the  south.  Some  of  the  houses 
are  shaped  like  a  "wedge"  tent,  the  inclining  sides  consisting 
of  a  frame  of  wood,  thatched  with  long  prairie  grass,  the  ends 


THE  MENNONITES  AT  HOME.  153 

being  sometimes  of  sod,  at  others  of  boards,  and  others  of 
sun-dried  brick.  Other  houses  resemble  a  wall  tent,  the  sides 
being  of  sod  laid  up  as  regularly  as  a  mason  lays  brick,  and 
the  roof  of  grass.  Some  of  these  sod  houses  were  in  course  of 
construction.  Finally  came  substantial  frame  houses.  At  the 
east  end  of  the  street,  in  a  red  frame  house  with  board  window 
shutters  painted  green,  lives  Jacob  Weibe,  the  head  man  of 
Gnadenau.  We  found  Mr.  Weibe  a  tall,  powerfully-built  man, 
with  a  more  martial  appearance  than  his  brethren.  This  may 
arise  from  the  circumstance  that  the  Mennonite  church  is 
divided  on  the  question  of  shaving,  and  Mr.  Weibe  adheres  to 
the  bearded  persuasion.  Mr.  Weibe  came  to  Kansas  from  the 
Crimea,  where  a  Mennonite  colony  was  established  some  thir- 
teen years  ago,  and  it  sounded  strangely  to  hear  him  use  in 
conversation  the  once  famous  names  of  localities  near  his 
home,  Sevastopol,  Kertch,  Eupatoria  and  others.  But  Kansas 
is  drawing  a  population  from  regions  yet  farther  away  than 
these.  On  our  road  to  Peabody  we  met  a  Mennonite  settler 
who  announced  the  arrival  of  a  daughter  from  the  border  of 
Circassia.  Mr.  Weibe  has  built  a  house  more  nearly  on  the 
Russian  model.  He  took  us  over  the  structure,  a  maze  of 
small  rooms  and  passages,  the  stable  being  under  the  same 
roof  with  the  people,  and  the  granaries  over  all,  the  great 
wheat-stacks  being  located  at  the  back  door. 

An  immense  pile  of  straw  was  intended,  Mr.  Weibe  said, 
for  fuel  this  winter.  The  Mennonites  are  economists  in  the 
way  of  fuel,  and  at  the  houses  are  large  piles  of  chopped  straw 
mixed  with  barnyard  manure  stacked  up  for  "firewood."  This 
kind  of  fuel  destroys  one's  ideas  of  the  "cheerful  fireside"  and 


154  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

"blazing  hearth."  There  is  not  much  "yule-log"  poetry  about 
it.  Straw  sounds  and  smells  better.  In  order  to  use  it,  how- 
ever, the  Mennonites  discard  stoves,  and  use  a  Russian  oven 
built  in  the  wall  of  the  house,  which,  once  thoroughly  heated 
with  light  straw,  will  retain  its  warmth  longer  than  young  love 
itself. 

Of  course  we  visited  the  watermelon  fields,  which  in  the 
aggregate  seemed  about  a  quarter-section,  and  Mr.  Weibe  in- 
sisted on  donating  a  hundred  pounds  or  so  of  the  fruit  —  or  is 
it  vegetable  ?  —  fearing  we  might  get  hungry  on  the  road. 

As  we  have  mentioned  three  Mennonite  villages,  we  may 
say  that  the  Mennonite,  system  contemplates  that  the  land- 
holder shall  live  in  the  town  and  in  the  country  at  the  same 
time.  The  villagers  of  Gnadenau  and  Hoffnungsthal  own 
fourteen  sections  of  land,  yet  all  the  farmers  live  in  the  two 
towns,  each  of  a  single  street.  Near  are  the  gardens,  and  all 
around  are  the  wide  fields.  Near  each  house  were  immense 
stacks  of  grain  raised  on  ground  rented  from  men  who  were 
driven  out  last  year  by  the  grasshoppers. 

When  we  left  the  manly  and  hospitable  Weibe's,  the  even- 
ing was  well  advanced.  At  the  top  of  the  ridge  we  looked 
back  into  the  wide  sunlit  valley  with  the  cornfields  and  the 
long  row  of  grass-thatched  houses,  and  thought  of  the  coming 
day  when  solid  farm-houses  and  great  barns  and  waving  or- 
chards would  line  the  long  village  street,  even  to  Hoffnungs- 
thal; and  so  we  slashed  open  a  watermelon,  and  drank  to  the 
health  of  Gnadenau. 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  MENNONITE8.* 


r  I  ^HERE  has  always  been  something  very  interesting  to  me 
-L  in  the  coming  of  different  peoples  to  Kansas,  and  the 
blending  of  all  of  them  into  a  community  of  interest  and 
language.  In  my  newspaper  travels  I  have  interviewed  a  half- 
dozen  varieties  of  "colonists,"  among  them  the  Hungarians, 
of  Rawlins  county,  and  the  colored  folks  of  Nicodemus,  who 
came  to  Kansas  from  the  distant  and  foreign  shores  of  Ken- 
tucky. 

By  far  the  most  extensive  and  notable  immigration  in  the 
history  of  Kansas  was  that  of  the  so-called  "  Russians,"  which 
began  substantially  in  1874,  and  which  has  resulted  in  the  set- 
tlement of  fifteen  thousand  Mennonites  in  the  counties  of 
Marion,  Harvey,  McPherson,  Butler,  Reno  and  Barton,  besides 
the  Catholic  German-Russians,  who  have  some  settlements  in 
Ellis  county,  on  the  line  of  the  Kansas  Pacific,  and  whose  mud 
village  of  Herzog  I  visited  in  1878. 

The  rallying-point  of  the  Russian  immigrants  in  1874  and 
1875  was  Topeka,  and  that  town  abounded  with  sheepskin 
coats,  ample  breeches,  bulbous  petticoats,  iron  teakettles,  and 
other  objects  supposed  to  be  distinctively  Russian,  for  many 
months.  There  was  considerable  competition  between  the 
two  great  land-grant  roads  —  the  Kansas  Pacific  and  the 

*  From  the  Atchison  Champion,  May  8, 1882. 
(155) 


156  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Atchison,  Topeka  <fe  Santa  Fe" —  to  secure  these  people  as  set- 
tlers. With  its  usual  good  luck,  the  Santa  Fe1  captured  both 
the  larger  and  the  better  class,  the  Mennonites. 

The  Catholic  Russians  were  from  a  remote  part  of  Russia, 
the  government  of  Saratov,  and  were  the  most  foreign  in 
their  appearance.  The  men  and  boys  had  a  custom  of  gather- 
ing on  the  street  at  night,  near  their  quarters,  and  singing  in 
concert.  The  music  was  of  a  peculiarly  plaintive  character, 
suggesting  the  wide,  lonely  steppes  from  whence  they  came. 
As  I  have  said,  they  went  out  on  the  Kansas  Pacific,  where 
they  seem  to  have  pretty  much  disappeared  from  public  view. 
In  1878,  at  Herzog,  they  had  made  very  little  progress. 

The  Mennonites  seemed  more  at  home  in  the  country;  and 
securing  excellent  lands  from  the  Santa  Fe  company,  soon 
disappeared  from  Topeka.  In  the  summer  of  1875,  in  com- 
pany with  Mr.  C.  B.  Schmidt,  then,  as  now,  the  Emigration 
Agent  of  the  A.  T.  <fe  S.  F.,  who  had  been  largely  instrumental 
in  settling  them  in  Kansas,  I  visited  a  portion  of  the  colo- 
nists, living  in  the  villages  of  New  Alexanderwohl,  Hoffnungs- 
thal  and  Gnadenau,  in  Harvey  and  Marion  counties.  The, 
observations  made  on  the  occasion  of  that  visit  were  em- 
bodied in  an  article  in  the  Topeka  Commonwealth,  entitled 
"The  Mennonites  at  Home."  From  that  visit  until  yesterday, 
I  had  never  seen  the  Mennonites,  though  I  had  often  felt  a 
great  curiosity  to  observe  for  myself  how  they  had  succeeded. 

In  1875  the  Mennonites  were  still  a  strange  people.  They 
retained  the  little  green  flaring  wagons  they  had  brought  from 
Russia,  and  were  attempting  to  live  here  under  the  same  rule 
they  followed  in  Russia.  ^The  village  of  Gnadenau  was  the 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  MENNONITES.  157 

most  pretentious  of  their  villages.  It  was  a  long  row  of 
houses,  mostly  built  of  sod  and  thatched  with  long  prairie 
grass.  A  few  of  the  wealthier  citizens  had  built  frame  houses, 
furnished  with  the  brick  ovens  of  Russian  origin  which  warm 
the  family  and  cook  its  food  for  all  day  with  two  armfuls  of 
loose  straw. 

The  land  belonging  in  severalty  to  the  villagers,  lay  around 
the  settlement,  some  of  it  at  a  considerable  distance,  while 
near  at  hand  was  a  large  common  field,  or  rather  garden, 
which  was  principally  devoted  to  watermelons,  which  seemed 
the  principal  article  on  the  Mennonite  bill  of  fare. 

The  site  of  the  villages  seemed  selected  with  care,  each 
standing  on  such  slight  ridges  and  elevations  as  the  prairie 
afforded.  It  was  summer  in  Kansas,  and  of  course  the  scene 
was  naturally  beautiful ;  but  the  scattered  or  collected  Men- 
nonite houses,  with  their  bare  walls  of  sods  or  boards,  amid 
patches  of  broken  prairie,  did  not  at  all  add  to  the  charm  of 
the  scene.  The  people  were  like  their  houses,  useful  but  ugly. 
They  had  not  yet  got  over  the  effect  of  their  long  ocean  voyage 
or  their  life  in  the  huddled  emigrant  quarters  at  Topeka,  where 
they  acquired  a  reputation  for  uncleanliness  which  they  were 
far  from  deserving.  Still  there  was  an  appearance  of  resolution 
and  patience  about  them,  taken  with  the  fact  that  all,  men, 
women  and  children,  were  at  work,  that  argued  well  for  the 
future.  It  was  easy,  if  possessed  of  the  slightest  amount  of 
imagination,  to  see  these  rude  habitations  transformed  in 
time  to  the  substantial  brick  houses  surrounded  by  orchards, 
such  as  the  people  had  owned  when  they  lived  on  the  banks  of 
the  Molotchna  in  far  Russia.  Of  course,  it  was  reasoned,  they 


158  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

would  remain  villagers;  they  would  cling  to  the  customs  they 
.brought  from  Russia,  and  remain  for  generations  a  peculiar 
people.  They  would  be  industrious ;  they  would  acquire 
wealth ;  but  they  would  remain  destitute  of  any  sense  of 
beauty,  rather  sordid,  unsocial,  and  to  that  extent  undesirable 
settlers. 

Hardly  seven  years  have  passed,  and  on  Friday  last,  for  the 
first  time,  the  writer  was  enabled  to  carry  into  effect  a  long- 
cherished  purpose  to  return  and  take  another  look  at  the 
Mennonites.  It  was  intended  to  start  from  Newton  in  the 
morning,  but  a  day  fair  as  ever  dawned  in  Eden  was  followed 
by  a  night  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  rain,  the  rain  continu- 
ing to  fall  all  the  following  forenoon,  with  a  chill  wind  from 
the  north;  but  at  noon  one  of  those  "transformation  scenes" 
common  in  Kansas  occurred.  The  sky  began  to  clear,  with  a 
great  band  of  blue  in  the  north  and  west;  the  wind  blew  free, 
and  by  2  o'clock  we  drove  out  over  roads  that  you  could 
almost  walk  in  barefooted  without  soiling  your  feet.  We  were 
fortunate  in  our  guide,  Mr.  Muntefering,  of  Newton,  who  had 
hunted  all  over  the  country,  and  had  traversed  it  often  trans- 
acting business  on  behalf  of  the  railroad  company  with  the 
Mennonites.  The  wheat  waved  a  varying  shade  of  green, 
shifting  in  its  lines  like  sea-water;  the  prairie-chickens  rose 
on  whirring  wing  before  the  old  hunting-dog  who  ran  before 
the  carriage;  flocks  of  long-billed  plover  looked  out  of  the 
grass ;  and  the  meadow-lark  rehearsed  a  few  notes  of  his 
never-finished  song. 

A  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  country  generally 
since  my  last  visit.  The  then  raw  prairie  was  now,  barring 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  MENNONITES.  159 

the  fences,  very  like  Illinois.  At  last,  after  driving  about  ten 
miles,  Mr.  Muntefering  announced  the  first  Mennonite  habita- 
tion, in  what  seemed  the  edge  of  a  young  forest,  and  I  then 
learned  what  I  had  never  before  heard,  or  else  had  forgotten, 
that  the  Mennonites  had  abandoned  the  village  system,  and 
now  lived  "each  man  to  himself."  They  tried  the  villages 
three  years,  but  some  confusion  arose  in  regard  to  paying 
taxes,  and  beside,  it  is  in  the  air,  this  desire  for  absolute  per- 
sonal and  family  independence;  and  so  they  went  on  their 
lands,  keeping,  however,  as  close  together  as  the  lay  of  the 
country  would  admit.  Sometimes  there  are  four  houses  to 
the  quarter-section ;  sometimes  four  to  the  section.  The 
grand  divisions  of  New  Alexanderwohl,  Hoffnungsthal  and 
Gnadenau  still  exist,  but  each  group  of  farms  has  a  name  of 
its  own,  revealing  a  poetical  tendency  somewhere,  as  Green- 
field, Flower  Field,  Field  of  Grace,  Emma  Vale,  Vale  of  Hope, 
and  so  on.  These  are  the  German  names  freely  translated. 
The  old  sod-houses  (we  believe  the  Mennonites  never  resorted 
to  the  dug-out)  had  given  way  to  frame  houses,  sometimes 
painted  white,  with  wooden  window-shutters.  The  houses  had 
no  porches  or  other  architectural  adornments,  and  were  uni- 
form in  appearance.  I  learned  afterward,  that  the  houses 
were  built  by  contract,  one  builder  at  Halstead  erecting  sixty- 
five  houses  in  one  neighborhood. 

The  most  surprising  thing  about  these  places  is  the  growth 
of  the  trees.  I  left  bare  prairie;  I  returned  to  find  a  score  of 
miniature  forests  in  sight  from  any  point  of  view.  The  wheat 
and  corn  fields  were  unfenced,  of  course,  but  several  acres 
around  every  house  were  set  in  hedges,  orchards,  lanes  and 


160  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

alleys  of  trees  —  trees  in  lines,  trees  in  groups,  and  trees  all 
alone.  In  many  cases  the  houses  were  hardly  visible  from  the 
road,  and  in  a  few  years  will  be  entirely  hidden  in  the  cool 
shade.  Where  the  houses  were  only  a  few  hundred  yards  apart, 
as  was  frequently  the  case,  a  path  ran  from  one  to  the  other, 
between  two  lines  of  poplars  or  cottonwoods.  A  very  com- 
mon shrub  was  imported  from  Russia  and  called  the  wild  olive, 
the  flowers  being  very  fragrant;  but  the  all-prevailing  growth 
was  the  mulberry,  another  Russian  idea,  which  is  used  as  a 
hedge,  a  fruit  tree,  for  fuel,  and  as  food  for  the  silk-worm. 

We  wished  to  see  a  few  specimen  Mennonites  and  their 
homes,  and  called  first  on  Jacob  Schmidt,  who  showed  us  the 
silk-worms  feeding  in  his  best  room.  On  tables  and  platforms 
a  layer  of  mulberry  twigs  had  been  laid,  and  these  were  covered 
with  thousands  of  worms,  resembling  the  maple-worm.  As 
fast  as  the  leaves  are  eaten  fresh  twigs  are  added.  As  the 
worms  grow,  more  room  i?  provided  for  them,  and  they  finally 
eat  mulberry  brush  by  the  wagon-load.  Mr.  Schmidt  said  the 
floor  of  his  garret  would  soon  be  covered.  It  seemed  strange 
that  the  gorgeous  robes  of  beauty  should  begin  with  this  blind, 
crawling  green  worm,  gnawing  ravenously  at  a  leaf. 

We  went  next  to  the  house  of  Peter  Schmidt.  Had  I  been 
an  artist  I  should  have  sketched  Peter  Schmidt,  of  Emmathal. 
as  the  typical  prosperous  Mennonite.  He  was  a  big  man,  on 
the  shady  side  of  forty.  His  face,  round  as  the  moon,  was  sun- 
burned to  a  walnut  brown.  He  was  very  wide  fore  and  aft;  he 
wore  a  vest  that  buttoned  to  his  throat,  a  sort  of  brown 
blouse,  and  a  pair  of  very  roomy  and  very  short  breeches, 
while  his  bare  feet  were  thrust  into  a  sort  of  sandals  very 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  MENNONITES.  161 

popular  with  the  Mennonites.  The  notable  feature  of  Peter's 
face  was  a  very  small  mouth,  which  was  slightly  spread  at 
times  with  a  little  smile,  showing  his  white  teeth,  and  quite  out 
of  proportion  to  his  immense  countenance.  Peter  knew 
scarcely  any  English,  but  conversed  readily  through  Mr. 
Muntefering.  He  showed  with  pride  his  mulberry  hedges. 
The  plants  are  set  out  in  three  rows,  which  are  cut  down  al- 
ternately. Peter  had  already  cut  down  one  row,  and  had  a 
great  pile  of  brush  for  firewood.  The  Mennonites  relied  at 
first  on  straw,  and  a  mixture  of  straw  and  barnyard  manure, 
which  was  dried  and  used  for  fuel,  but  now  the  wood  is  in- 
creasing on  their  lands.  They  have  seldom  or  never  indulged 
in  the  extravagance  of  coal.  Another  source  of  pride  was  the 
apricots.  The  seed  was  brought  from  Russia,  and  the  trees 
bore  plentifully  last  year,  and  the  Mennonites,  taking  them  to 
Newton  as  a  lunch,  were  agreeably  surprised  by  an  offer  of  $3 
a  bushel  for  them.  Peter  Schmidt  showed  all  his  arboral 
treasures  —  apples,  cherries,  peaches,  apricots,  pears,  all  in 
bearing,  where  seven  years  ago  the  wind  in  passing  found  only 
the  waving  prairie  grass.  No  wonder  Peter  Schmidt,  of  Em- 
mathal,  waxed  fat  and  smiled.  He  started  on  the  prairie  with 
$800 ;  he  now  has  a  farm  worth  f  4,000.  We  went  into  the 
house,  of  course;  the  door  of  every  Mennonite  is  open,  and 
the  proprietor  showed  us  his  silk-worms  and  his  possessions 
generally.  He  exhibited  his  Russian  oven,  built  in  the  parti- 
tion walls  so  as  to  warm  two  or  three  rooms,  and  to  which  is 
attached  also  a  sort  of  brick  range  for  cooking  purposes. 
This  device  cannot  be  explained  without  a  diagram.  It  is 
perfectly  efficient,  and  the  smoke  at  last  goes  into  a  wide  chim- 


162  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

ney"  which  is  used  as  the  family  smoke-house.  A  happy  man 
was  Peter  Schmidt,  and  well  satisfied  with  his  adopted  country, 
for  when  I  managed  to  mix  enough  German  and  English  to- 
gether to  ask  him  how  he  liked  America  as  compared  with  Rus- 
sia, he  answered  in  a  deep  voice,  and  with  his  little  smile: 
"Besser."  With  a  hearty  good-bye  to  Peter  Schmidt  of  Em- 
mathal,  we  pursued  our  journey,  passing  many  houses,  hedges 
and  orchards,  and  finally  came  to  the  home  of  Heinrich 
Richert  of  Blumenfeld,  or  Flower  Field. 

This  place  was  of  the  more  modern  type.  The  house  was 
a  plain  frame,  of  the  American  pattern,  but  the  stable  had  a 
roof  of  thatch,  on  which  the  doves  clung  and  cooed,  as  you 
see  them  in  pictures.  Not  far  away  on  either  hand  were  two 
other  houses,  to  which  shaded  alleys  led.  In  one  of  them  lived 
the  oldest  married  daughter  of  the  family.  Leading  up  to 
the  front  door  the  path  was  lined  with  hedges  of  mulberry, 
trimmed  very  low,  and  flat  on  top,  as  box  hedges  are  trimmed  ; 
and  there  was  also  a  large  flower-bed  of  intricate  pattern,  the 
property  of  the  Misses  Richert. 

When  Mr.  Richert  came  in  from  the  fields,  his  bright  eye, 
his  square  jaw,  and  the  way  he  stood  on  his  legs,  showed  that 
he  was  accustomed  to  authority.  He  had,  in  fact,  been  a 
schoolmaster  in  Russia,  and  in  America  occasionally  exercises 
his  gifts  as  a  preacher.  In  the  sitting-room,  which  had  no 
carpet,  but  a  pine  floor  which  fairly  shone,  was  a  bookcase 
set  in  the  wall  and  filled  with  books,  which  usually  are  not 
very  common  in  Mennonite  houses.  They  were  all  sober-col- 
ored volumes,  commentaries  on  the  Scriptures,  and  works  on 
horse-doctoring.  Madame  Richert,  a  very  pleasant  woman, 


A  DAT  WITH  THE  MENNONITES.  163 

with,  it  may  be  remarked,  a  very  pretty  and  small  hand,  gave 
the  history  of  the  older  books,  which  were  brought  from 
Prussia,  where  her  husband  was  born,  but  she  herself  was  born 
in  southern  Russia,  as  were  the  thirteen  young  Richerts. 

It  was  decided  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  these  good  peo- 
ple, and  the  mother  and  daughters  got  supper  —  and  such  a 
supper !  such  bread  and  butter  and  preserves  ;  and  every- 
thing, nearly,  on  the  bill  of  fare  was  the  product  of  this  six- 
year-old  farm.  At  table  the  conversation  turned  on  the  mode 
of  living  in  Russia.  From  Mr.  Richert's  description  the  Men- 
nonites  lived  much  better  than  most  working  -  people  in 
Europe.  They  had  Brazilian  coffee  which  came  by  way, of 
Hamburg,  and  tea  which  came  overland  from  China ;  then 
they  had  fish,  both  fresh-water  fish  and  fish  from  the  Sea  of 
Azof.  He  said  the  mode  of  serving  food  had  been  changed 
somewhat  since  the  Mennonites  had  migrated  to  this  country. 

After  supper,  Mr.  Richert,  his  son,  and  the  visitors,  had  a 
long  talk  about  Russia.  The  treatment  accorded  the  Men- 
nonites by  the  Russian  Government,  up  to  1871,  was  all  that 
could  be  desired.  The  agreements  made  in  the  days  of  the 
Empress  Catherine,  what  Mr.  Richert  called  the  "privilegium," 
were  faithfully  kept.  The  Mennonites  did  not  own  the  lands, 
but  leased  them  on  the  condition  of  cultivating  them;  the  im- 
provements were  their  own.  The  Mennonites  had,-  in  fact, 
very  little  to  do  with  the  Imperial  Government;  each  of  the 
fifty  villages  had  its  burgomaster,  and  a  chief  burgomaster 
was  elected  by  the  people.  The  Government  transacted  its 
business  with  the  Mennonites  through  a  council  consisting  of 
three  Russian  officials,  and  these  performed  their  duty  hon- 


164  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

estly  —  a  rare  thing  in  Russia.  The  Mennonites  were  industri- 
ous, peaceable  and  loyal;  a  Mennonite  was  the  richest  man  in 
the  Crimea,  and  one  of  the  wealthiest  in  Russia.  Everything 
went  well  until  the  Government,  in  1871,  announced  its  inten- 
tion of  enforcing  a  universal  conscription.  Against  this  the 
Mennonites  protested.  Ten  years  was  given  them  to  yield  or 
leave.  Thousands  left.  In  1881  the  Government  revoked  the 
"  privilegium,"  compelled  the  remaining  Mennonites  to  take 
lands  in  severalty,  and  began  to  introduce  the  Russian  lan- 
guage into  the  Menno'nite  schools.  Russia's  loss  is  our  gain. 

At  breakfast  the  conversation  turned  on  the  wonderful  suc- 
cess of  the  Mennonites  with  all  kinds  of  trees,  quite  excelling 
anything  known  by  Americans,  with  all  their  low-spirited  hor- 
ticultural societies.  Herr  Richert  remarked  that  one  thing 
that  helped  the  trees  was  "plowing  the  dew  under."  This  is 
one  of  the  secrets  of  Mennonite  success  —  they  "plow  the  dew 
under''  in  the  morning,  and  do  not  stop  plowing  till  the  dew 
falls  at  evening. 

The  history  of  Herr  Richert  was  that  of  all  the  Mennonites 
we  talked  with.  He  had  come  to  this  country  with  $1,000  ;  at 
the  end  of  the  second  year  he  was  $1,300  in  debt,  but  had 
lifted  the  load  and  was  now  the  possessor  of  a  fine  farm.  The 
Mennonites,  we  may  say,  bought  their  lands  in  alternate  sec- 
tions of  the  railroad  company,  and  in  most  cases  bought  the 
intervening  sections  of  individual  owners.  They  have  been 
prompt  pay.  Many  of  the  Mennonites  were  very  poor.  To 
provide  these  with  land,  a  large  sum  was  borrowed  from 
wealthy  Mennonites  in  the  east.  The  beneficiaries  are  now 
prosperous,  and  the  money  has  been  faithfully  repaid.  Be- 


A  DAT   WITH  THE  MENNONITES.  165 

sides  this,  a  mission  has  been  maintained  in  the  Indian  Terri- 
tory, and  a  considerable  sum  has  been  recently  forwarded  to 
aid  destitute  brethren  in  Russia. 

To  continue  our  journey  :  our  next  stop  was  to  call  on  a 
settler  who  wore  a  beard,  a  Cossack  cap,  and  looked  the  Rus- 
sian more  than  any  other  man  we  met.  He  took  us  into  a 
room,  to  show  us  some  Tartar  lambskin  coats,  which  was  a 
perfect  copy  of  a  room  in  Russia ;  with  its  sanded  floor,  its 
wooden  settees  painted  red  and  green,  its  huge  carved  chest 
studded  with  great  brass  headed  bolts,  and  its  brass  lock-plate, 
all  scoured  to  perfect  brightness.  In  a  little  cupboard  was  a 
shining  store  of  brass  and  silver  table-ware.  It  was  like  a 
visit  to  Molotchna. 

At  the  humble  dwelling  of  Johann  Krause  we  witnessed  the 
process  of  reeling  raw  silk.  The  work  was  done  by  Mrs.  Krause, 
on  a  rude  twister  and  reel  of  home  construction.  The  co- 
coons were  placed  in  a  trough  of  boiling  water,  and  the 
woman,  with  great  dexterity,  caught  up  the  threads  of  light 
cocoons,  twisting  them  into  two  threads  and  running  these  on 
the  reel.  The  work  required  infinite  patience,  of  which  few 
Americans  are  possessed.  The  Mennonites  carried  on  the 
silk-raising  business  in  Russia  with  great  success,  and  bid  fair 
to  make  it  a  great  interest  here. 

After  leaving  Johann  Krause,  we  made  few  more  halts,  but 
drove  for  miles  with  many  Mennonite  houses  in  sight,  and  the 
most  promising  orchards  and  immense  fields  of  the  greenest 
wheat.  I  have  never  seen  elsewhere  such  a  picture  of  agricul- 
tural prosperity. 


166  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

If  anyone  has  not  yet  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  possibili- 
ties of  Kansas  agriculture,  1  recommend  a  visit  to  the  Men- 
nonite  settlements.  It  is  not  difficult  of  accomplishment,  as 
the  points  I  visited  in  Harvey,  McPherson  and  Marion  coun- 
ties can  be  reached  by  a  few  miles  drive  from  Newton  or 
Halstead,  on  the  main  line  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka  <fe  Santa 
Fe,  or  from  Canton,  Hillsboro  and  other  stations  on  the 
Marion  <fc  McPherson  branch. 

It  is  a  matter,  I  regret  to  say,  of  uncertainty,  whether  the 
work  begun  by  these  Mennonite  settlers  will  be  completed.  If 
the  sons  and  grandsons  of  Peter  Schmidt,  of  Emmathal,  and 
Heinrich  Richert,  of  Blumenfeld,  will  walk  in  the  ways  of  those 
worthy  men,  the  result  will  be  something  like  fairyland  —  the 
fairies  being,  however,  substantial  men,  weighing  about  185 
pounds  each.  The  orchards  will  bud  and  bloom,  and  amid 
them  will  stand  the  solid  brick  houses,  like  those  of  Russia, 
and  the  richest  farmers  of  Kansas  will  dwell  therein.  Bat 
there  is  a  danger  that  this  will  not  come  to  pass.  Jacob  and 
David  will  go  to  work  on  the  railroad,  and  let  the  plow  take 
care  of  itself;  and  Susanna  and  Aganetha  will  go  out  to  ser- 
vice in  the  towns,  and  fall  to  wearing  fine  clothes  and  marrying 
American  Gentiles;  and  the  evil  day  may  come  when  the  de- 
scendant of  the  Mennonites  of  the  old  stock  will  be  cushion- 
ing store-boxes,  saving  the  Nation  with  his  mouth,  or  even 
going  about  like  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  a  nomination  for 
Congress.  I  wish  I  could  believe  it  otherwise.  I  wish  our  at- 
mosphere did  not  make  us  all  so  smart  that  we  cannot  enjoy 
good  health.  Were  it  not  for  that  accursed  vanity  and  rest- 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  MENNONITES.  167 

lessneas  which  is  our  heritage,  I  could  indulge  in  a  vision  of 
the  future  — of  a  peaceful,  quiet,  wealthy  people,  undisturbed 
by  the  throes  of  speculation  or  politics,  dwelling  in  great  con- 
tent under  the  vines  and  mulberry  trees  which  their  fathers 
planted  in  the  grassy,  wind-swept  wilderness. 


THE  WORLD  A  SCHOOL.* 


IN  a  State  which  had  elections  before  it  had  legal  voters; 
railroads  before  it  had  freight  and  passengers  for  them; 
and  newspapers  before  it  had  printing  offices  ;  a  State  which 
one  of  its  gifted  and  honored  sons  described  in  a  magazine 
(which  rose,  fell  and  faded  because  it  was  published  before  it 
had  readers)  as  the  "hottest,  coldest,  dryest,  wettest,  thickest, 
thinnest  country  in  the  world,"  there  can  be  nothing  surpris- 
ing or  worthy  of  apology  in  the  fact  that,  on  an  occasion  like 
this,  an  individual  should  be  selected  to  speak  to  classical 
scholars  who  does  not  himself  know  one  Greek  letter  from 
another ;  and  who,  so  far  from  knowing  anything  of  the 
Latin  particles,  does  not  know  a  particle  of  Latin;  that  one 
should  be  chosen  to  address,  with  an  implied  obligation  to 
instruct  gentlemen  who  are  proficient  in  the  mechanic  arts, 
yet  who  himself  could  not  construct  a  symmetrical  toothpick, 
even  with  the  plans  and  specifications  before  him;  nor  that 
there  should  be  delegated  as  the  "guide,  philosopher,  and 
friend"  of  teachers  and  students  of  the  science  of  Agriculture, 
one  who,  should  there  arise  in  future  times  a  contest  like  that 
which  has  raged  over  the  authorship  of  the  "Letters  of  Jun- 
ins,"  might  be  put  forward  as  the  probable  writer  of  that 

*  Annual  address  delivered  before  the  Kansas  State  Agricultural  Col- 
lege, at  Manhattan,  May  26, 1875. 

(168) 


THE   WOULD  A  SCHOOL.  169 

singular  compendium  of  ignorance,  "What  I  Know  About 
Farming,"  instead  of  the  late  Horace  Greeley. 

While  thus  disclaiming  any  necessity  for  an  apology,  your 
speaker  will  not,  however,  avail  himself  of  ten  thousand  time- 
honored  precedents,  and  after  first  announcing  that  he  is  "en- 
tirely unprepared  to  make  a  speech,"  proceed  to  demonstrate 
the  truth  of  that  preliminary  remark  to  the  absolute  conviction 
of  everybody;  but,  avoiding  educational  bays  and  inlets  which 
he  has  never  navigated,  will  head  out  to  the  sea  which  no  man 
owns;  which  has  no  beaten  paths;  over  which  the  man  who 
sails,  though  it  be  for  the  thousandth  time,  still  sails  a  dis- 
coverer, a  ten-thousandth  edition  of  Christopher  Columbus; 
and,  instead  of  speaking  of  this  man's  books,  and  of  that 
professor's  school,  he  will  speak  of  a  book  which  no  man 
wrote,  and  which  is  not  yet  completed;  he  will  discourse  of  a 
University  for  which  men's  schools  and  colleges  and  universi- 
ties are,  at  the  very  best,  but  a  slight  preparation;  and  these 
thoughts  and  suggestions  will  be  brought  together  under  the 
general  title  of  "The  World  a  School." 

Possibly  some  may  inquire  by  what  process  a  speaker,  con- 
fessedly ignorant  of  many  valuable  things  found  in  books, 
and  deprived  by  chance,  circumstances,  and — in  early  life  — 
want  of  inclination  to  acquire  what  is  commonly  called  an 
education,  has  obtained  the  knowledge  which  he  proposes  to 
impart;  from  what  store-house,  they  may  ask,  does  he  pro- 
pose to  draw  his  facts  and  inferences  ?  The  reply  is,  that  this 
qualification  and  these  facts  and  applications  are  obtained 
through  what  is  itself  an  educational  process,  although  it  is 
never  mentioned  in  the  educational  journals,  or  discussed  at 


170  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

the  teachers'  institutes,  or  supervised  by  that  oppressive  mys- 
tery—  the  Bureau  of  Education  at  Washington;  and  this 
sort  of  education  is  called — in  America  and  by  Americans  — 
"  knocking  about." 

The  course  varies  with  every  scholar,  and  occupies  various 
periods  of  time.  With  most  Americans  it  lasts  from  early 
manhood,  sometimes  from  early  boyhood,  to  the  end  of  life. 
It  is  the  fate  of  very  few  to  graduate  early  ;  to  find  some 
sailor's  snug  harbor  where  they  may  ponder  over  what  they 
learned,  and  be  knocked  about  no  more.  The  students  of 
Knock  About  University  cannot  locate  on  the  map  the  seat  of 
that  institution;  it  has  no  special  postomce  address.  Like 
love,  it  is  found  in  the  camp,  the  court,  the  field  and  the  grove. 
The  student  resides  at  no  particular  boarding-house ;  and,  as 
I  have  said  before,  the  course  varies  with  each  student,  though 
the  course  is  by  no  means  optional,  since  the  student  fre- 
quently pursues  branches  which  he  does  not  fancy  ;  and,  in- 
deed, instances  are  of  record  when  the  course  has  suddenly 
ended  at  the  branch  of  a  tree.  In  the  course  of  his  studies 
the  student  may  be  transported  from  the  banks  of  the  Ohio 
to  those  of  the  Sacramento,  and  thence  to  the  James.  He 
may  be  transferred  from  the  society  of  students  of  the 
Septuagint  to  that  of  the  professors  of  the  seven-shooter. 
He  may  become  in  turn,  or  be  all  at  once,  a  preacher,  a  news- 
paper correspondent  and  a  soldier.  He  may  be  at  the  same 
time  a  member  of  a  presbytery  and  of  a  general's  staff,  and 
perform  at  once,  and  in  different  ways,  the  functions  of  an 
embassador  of  Heaven  and  of  the  sanitary  commission.  To- 
day he  may  be  learning  to  set  type,  and  to-morrow  building  a 


THE   WORLD  A   SCHOOL.  Ill 

church  ;  to-day  he  may  be  fearlessly  denouncing  sin  and  wick- 
edness, and  day  after  to-morrow  fighting  a  narrow-gauge  rail- 
road. In  none  of  these  pursuits  is  he  adhering  to  what  I  am 
informed  is  called  a  "curriculum;"  and  in  the  prosecution  of 
these  various  labors  he  may  not  open  a  text-book  for  weeks 
together.  And  yet.  he  is  all  the  time  acquiring  knowledge 
which  mortal  man  never  yet  extracted  from  between  the 
covers  of  any  book  ever  written  by  man.  In  these  years  his 
hands  are  hardening  for  the  work  they  have  yet  to  do  ;  his 
shoulders  are  widening  for  the  burden  they  have  yet  to  bear ; 
his  sinews  are  strengthening  for  the  race  he  has  yet  to  run ; 
his  heart  is  enlarging  for  those  he  has  yet  to  embrace  in  its 
sympathies ;  and  his  mind  is  acquiring  that  breadth  and 
force,  vigor  and  clearness  which  will  at  last  be  required  in 
the  instruction  of  —  it  may  be  you,  young  ladies  and  gentle- 
men ! 

It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  say  that  the  rough  sketch  I 
have  just  drawn  is  not  intended  as  the  outline  of  an  autobiog- 
raphy. Far  less  useful  and  brilliant  has  been  the  career  of 
your  fellow-student  of  the  evening,  and  yet  it  may  be,  that 
even  in  the  experience  of  years  spent  in  the  enforced  wander- 
ings of  a  common  soldier ;  of  other  years  passed  even  in  the 
humbler  walks  of  a  profession  created  within  a  century  or 
two  specially  to 'record  day  by  day  the  progress  of  this  busy 
world;  of  years  filled  in  with  a  mass  of  reading,  even  though 
careless  and  unsystematic;  —  it  may  be  that,  in  all  these  years, 
some  knowledge  which  may  be  imparted  to  others  has  been 
acquired  of  that  world  which  Shakspeare  says  is  all  a  stage, 
but  which  for  this  evening,  we  will  consider  is  all  a  school. 


172  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  that  there  has  been  a  settled  en- 
deavor to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  the  students  of  this 
Kansas  State  Agricultural  College  it  is,  that  neither  at  this 
nor  any  other  institution  of  learning  —  neither  at  Manhattan, 
nor  at  Gottingen,  nor  Tubingen,  nor  at  any  other  place  that 
ends  in  "ingen"  —  can  be  acquired  what  some  people  are 
pleased  to  call  a  finished  education.  This  institution  does 
not,  if  I  correctly  understand  its  purposes,  teach  the  young 
idea  how  to  shoot;  it  merely  endeavors  to  furnish  him  with 
powder  and  shot,  and  expects  him  to  do  his  own  shooting ! 
All  that  is  learned  here  is,  as  I  understand  it,  only  intended  as 
a  preparation  for  the  student  who  is  going  out  to  become  a 
gownsman,  as  the  English  would  say,  in  that  great  university 
—  the  World. 

I  say  "going  out  into  the  world,"  and  I  use  the  expression 
advisedly.  The  young  man  or  woman  who  has  passed  twenty 
years  of  life,  who  has  known  something  of  struggle  and  toil, 
incurred  possibly  to  avail  himself  or  herself  of  the  advantage 
of  this  very  institution,  may  think  that  he  or  she  is  already  in 
the  midst  of  the  great  world;  but  this  is  hardly  the  case.  New 
York  harbor  is  a  part  of  the  ocean;  the  water  is  salt  and 
sometimes  rough,  and  the  breeze  that  blows  over  it  is  fresh 
and  strong,  and  the  tide  rises  and  falls;  but  no  ships  are  ever 
seen  under  full  sail  in  its  waters.  They  are  towed  about  by 
steam-tugs,  and  it  is  only  when  you  are  outside  of  the  Nar- 
rows, and  the  tug  has  cast  off  and  the  pilot  is  gone,  that  you 
are  at  sea;  and  the  difference  is,  that  from  that  time,  on  her 
journey  through  light  and  darkness,  through  sunshine  and 
storm,  near  the  low  reef  or  sunken  rock,  for  thousands  of 


THE    WOULD  A   SCHOOL.  173 

miles,  until  the  once-familiar  stars  are  gone  and  even  the 
heavens  are  strange,  the  good  ship  must  care  for  herself 
alone.  For  days  she  sails  the  lonely  deep,  nor  sees  the  faint- 
est glimmering  of  a  friendly  sail.  When  the  sky  grows  black, 
the  waves  grow  white,  and  the  vessel  rolls  and  groans  like  a 
sick  man  in  his  sleep,  she  cannot  run  into  a  friendly  harbor; 
her  salvation  depends  on  her  keeping  off-shore.  If  there  are 
defects  in  her  construction;  if  she  is  ill-manned,  or  if  her  rig- 
ging is  worn  when  she  leaves  port,  she  cannot  return  to  mend 
these  defects.  Courage  and  skill  on  the  part  of  the  officers 
must  repair  damages  and  provide  against  calamity.  But  there 
is  no  going  back;  she  is  at  sea. 

And  this  it  is  that  makes  going  out  from  an  institution  like 
this  really  going  out  into  the  world,  because  it  marks  the 
limit  between  dependence  and  self-help.  The  student  here 
obeys  rules  and  regulations  prescribed  by  others;  he  reads 
books  placed  in  his  hands  by  others;  he  receives  opinions,  to 
some  extent,  because  they  are  promulgated  by  authority;  but 
when  he  steps  out  of  these  bounds  all  this  ceases.  He  is  his 
own  man  then.  A  Frenchman  relating  an  experience  in  Eng- 
land, and  illustrating  the  omnipresence  of  the  English  officers 
of  the  law,  said:  "I  was  alone  with  God — and  a  policeman." 
And  so  the  newly -graduated  is  alone  in  the  world — with  a  di- 
ploma. 

That  diploma  is  a  good  thing.  Your  speaker  wishes  he 
possessed  one;  he  would  prize  it,  even  though  it  were  written 
in  newspaper  English.  But  after  all,  the  parchment  only  tells 
what  has  been  done,  and  it  does  not  always  tell  the  whole  truth 
about  that.  In  a  healthy  soldier's  discharge  from  the  service 


174  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

are  the  words:  "No  objection  to  his  being  reenlisted  is  known 
to  exist."  I  imagine  that  sentence  might  be  written  with 
propriety  on  an  occasional  diploma.  The  graduate  might  go 
back  and  go  through  the  course  again  without  injury.  But 
admitting  that  the  diploma  has  been  well  and  fairly  earned,  it 
is  only  an  evidence  of  work  worthily  done  so  far  —  of  a  good 
beginning.  It  is,  at  the  best,  a  certificate  that  John  Smith  or 
Jane  Smith,  as  the  case  may  be,  has  made  a  good  start  to- 
ward acquiring  an  education,  and  is  prepared,  as  far  as  the 
institution  conferring  the  diploma  can  furnish  a  preparation, 
for  entrance  in  that  greater,  higher  school,  the  world. 

And  right  here,  over  the  question  what  sort  of  preparation 
should  be  furnished,  has  been  fought  the  battle  of  the  educa- 
tors. It  is  over  this  that  the  great  educational  gods  have 
kept  "this  dreadful  pother  o'er  our  heads";  it  is  over  this 
that  it  has  thundered  all  around  the  sky;  it  is  over  this  that 
usually  mild-mannered  men  have  shot  wrathful  glances  through 
their  gold-bowed  spectacles,  while  every  fold  of  their  white 
neckcloths  swelled  with  indignation.  The  result  of  the  battle 
has  been  the  establishment  of  two  varieties  of  colleges:  one 
teaching  the  classics,  and  conferring  the  information  that 
"Achilles'  wrath"  was  "to  Greece  the  direful  spring  of  woes 
unnumbered,"  and  also  furnishing  the  truly  gratifying  infor- 
mation that  Major  General  Xenophon,  with  ten  thousand  men, 
has  fallen  back  from  Richmond  to  the  Chickahominy,  and 
now  has  the  enemy  just  where  he  wants  him;  and  the  other 
variety  teaching  the  modern  languages,  natural  sciences,  agri- 
culture, and  the  trades.  Possibly  this  may  not  be  an  exactly 
accurate  statement  of  the  case,  but  it  must  be  taken  as  the  ac- 


THE   WORLD  A   SCHOOL.  175 

count  given  by  a  passing  reporter  who  took  no  part  in  the 
row  himself. 

But  seriously,  men  must  take  the  world  as  they  find  it. 
And  what  kind  of  a  world  does  the  graduate  find  when  he 
leaves  the  halls  he  has  paced  so  long  ?  Is  it  like  an  old-fash- 
ioned college?  The  sinking  heart  of  many  a  young  man  as 
he  has  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  surging,  careless,  seemingly 
selfish,  rude,  well-nigh  merciless  crowd  for  the  first  time,  has 
told  him  that  the  world  is  no  green  college  campus;  that  the 
men  he  must  meet  day  in  and  day  out,  with  whom  and  from 
whom  he  must  earn  his  daily  bread,  are  not  professors  or  stu- 
dents; are  not  men  of  culture;  that  they  are  not  interested  in 
the  woes  of  Greece,  but  are  vastly  concerned  about  their  own 
woes,  their  own  business,  and  their  own  dinners.  Stand  where 
meet  the  thronged  ways  in  a  great  city  and  notice  what  men 
carry  in  their  hands,  under  their  arms,  or  in  their  breast 
pockets,  and  you  will  find  out  something  about  this  world. 
Here  goes  a  painter  with  his  bucket  of  white-lead;  there  goes 
a  carpenter  with  his  square;  here  passes  an  Italian  with  a 
board  on  his  head,  covered  with  plaster-of-paris  figures;  here, 
one  after  another,  pass  a  dozen  clerks  with  pencils  over  their 
ears,  and  bits  of  paper  in  their  hands,  and  papers  sticking 
out  of  their  pockets;  shop-boys  pass  repeatedly  with  bundles; 

here  walks  a  round-shouldered  chap  with  the  end  of  his  right 

• 
thumb  and  finger  discolored  and  worn  off  a  little  —  he  is  a 

printer,  and  takes  a  brass  composing-rule  out  of  his  pocket 
and  puts  it  back  again;  men  pass  with  hods,  with  mortar- 
boards, with  trowels;  there  may  pass  once  in  a  while  a  young 
gentleman,  a  smile  irradiating  his  classical  features  —  that  is 


176  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

a  reporter,  going  to  congratulate  with  the  coroner  over  an  ap- 
proaching inquest. 

This  little  panorama  shows  how  men  live,  how  you,  my 
friend  with  the  bright  and  shining  diploma,  must  live.  Sup- 
pose you  wish  to  find  out  what  these  men  know.  Quote,  if 
you  please,  something  from  Homer,  in  the  original  Greek; 
something  affecting;  the  best  thing  there  is  in  the  book  about 
Achilles'  wrath  and  the  woes  of  Greece.  Try  this  on  the  most 
intelligent-looking  man  who  passes,  and  if  he  is  a  Kansas  man 
—  as  he  probably  will  be  if  he  looks  uncommonly  intelligent  — 
he  will  look  at  you  in  a  pitying  way,  and  remark  that  it  is  a 
burning  shame  that  the  Insane  Asylum  at  Osawatomie  was 
not  enlarged,  or  a  new  one  built,  years  ago.  It  is  evident  that 
the  gentleman  does  not  know  Greek,  and  if  you  will  look  fur- 
ther you  will  find  before  long  a  man  in  the  crowd  who  cannot 
translate  the  simplest  Latin  sentence,  who  nevertheless  has  a 
diploma  at  home  written  in  that  language.  But  the  trouble  is 
that  shortly  after  his  graduation  the  exigencies  of  life  obliged 
him  to  cease  to  trouble  his  head  about  how  long  Catiline  in- 
tends to  abuse  our  patience,  and  abandoning  all  concern 
about  the  woes  of  Greece,  he  went  into  the  soap-grease  busi- 
ness. A  few  moments,  then,  passed  where  men  can  be  seen 
about  their  ordinary  vocations,  shows  us  that  the  world,  which 
we  have  said  is  a  school,  is  likewise  an  Industrial  School.  A 
vast  majority  of  men  are  engaged  in  industrial  pursuits,  and 
this,  too,  without  regard  to  the  circumstances  of  their  early 
education.  To  this  complexion  men  must  come  at  last. 

Admitting  this  to  be  true,  and  it  most  certainly  is  true, 
what  sort  of  preparatory  school  is  the  best  for  a  young  man 


THE   WOELD  A  SCHOOL.  177 

or  young  woman  who  must,  in  time,  enter  this  great  industrial 
school- — the  World?  The  question  is  easily  answered.  The 
preparatory  school  should  be  the  same,  in  kind,  as  the  ad- 
vanced department.  It  should  be  what  the  Boston  Latin 
School  has  so  long  been -to  Harvard.  Common  sense,  to  be 
plain  about  it,  indicates  that  the  transfer  should  be  from  the 
primary  industrial  school. 

But  some  people  say  the  office  of  colleges  and  universities 
is  not  to  prepare  young  men  and  women  for  the  rugged  voca- 
tions of  life,  but  to  impart  to  them  mental  culture.  Culture 
is  good;  but  the  question  arises,  What  is  the  best  culture  ?  A 
man  might  take  a  quarter-section  of  raw  prairie,  break  it, 
harrow  it,  and  finally  seed  it  down  to  marigolds ;  and  that 
would  be  culture.  The  result  would  be  beautiful;  a  thing  of 
beauty  and  a  joy,  till  frost  came,  would  be  that  field  of  mari- 
golds. What  eye  would  not  kindle  when  "jocund  day  stood 
tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain-tops,"  pointing  with  rosy  fingers 
'  to  those  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  glowing  golden  mari- 
golds ?  But  the  man  owning  the  adjoining  quarter  breaks  up 
the  prairie-sod,  and  puts  the  entire  tract  in  onions,  —  and  that 
would  be  culture,  too.  The  onion  is  not  an  aristocratic  vege- 
table; it  is  not  admitted  into  good  society.  When  the  opera 
house  is  a  blaze  of  light;  when  the  wealth  of  empires  glitters 
in  diamonds  on  necks  of  snow;  when  the  echoes  of  delicious 
music  fill  the  high  hall,  and  the  vast  drop-curtain  as  it  falls 
trembles  responsive  to  the  applause  that  swells  from  parquet, 
boxes,  and  galleries  —  no  admirer  ever  throws  at  the  feet  of 
the  child  of  genius,  the  embodiment  of  beauty  and  melody,  a 

dewy  bouquet  of  fresh-culled  onions..    And  yet,  to  return  to 
11 


178  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

the  kind  of  culture  on  the  prairie,  public  sentiment,  leaning 
over  the  rail  fence  and  commenting  on  the  two  quarter- 
sections,  goes  with  the  raiser  of  onions;  applauds  the  thor- 
oughness of  his  culture;  remarks  the  admirable  condition  of 
the  ground,  and  the  absence  of  weeds;  and  the  man  of  onions 
goes  down  to  his  house  justified  rather  than  the  other.  I  con- 
fess that  I  am  a  partisan  as  between  marigolds  and  onions. 
I  am  an  ultra  onion  man,  myself. 

But,  leaving  this  discussion,  it  is  to  be  taken  for  granted, 
students  of  the  Kansas  State  Agricultural  College,  that  you 
have  made  up  your  minds  to  cast  in  your  lot  with  an  institu- 
tion which  can  say  to  you  when  you  leave  it  for  the  last  time, 
"Go,  my  son,  go,  my  daughter ;  I  have  done  all  I  could  for 
you ;  would  that  it  were  more.  I  do  not  send  you  forth  filled 
with  dreams  and  visions.  The  world  is  a  working  world,  as  I 
have  told  you  often,  and  I  have  fitted  you  as  best  I  could  to 
begin  that  work.  You,  my  son,  may  not  rise  to  what  the 
world  calls  distinction.  It  may  not  be  yours,  the  '  applause  of 
listening  senates  to  command,'  but  you  may,  please  God,  live 
honestly  and  worthily  and  eat  the  bread  your  own  hands  have 
earned.  And  yon,  my  daughter,  go  hence,  freed  from  woman's 
bane  and  curse  —  an  ignorant  helplessness.  You  go  with 
skillful  trained  fingers,  and  an  honest  heart,  into  a  world  that 
has  need  of  you  and  such  as  you. 

Graduated  from  this  school  and  entered  upon  that  other 
school,  the  world — who,  what,  where  are  the  teachers  ?  They 
are  around  above,  beneath  you ;  they  are  yourself,  man  and 
nature.  He  who  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear  in  the  world, 
the  myriad  voices  that  speak  to  him.  Let  him  find  the 


THE   WORLD  A  SCHOOL.  179 

"  tongues  in  trees,  the  books  in  running  brooks,  the  good  in 
everything,"  of  •which  the  self-taught  Shakspeare  wrote.  But 
time  passes  ;  we  cannot  call  the  roll  of  the  faculty  of  the 
University  of  the  World,  and  so  I  make  a  few  suggestions, 
addressed  more  particularly  to  the  graduating  class,  and  those 
who  are  soon  to  follow  them.  There  is  a  phrase,  I  believe  it  is 
called  a  "slang  phrase"  —  though  whose  function  it  is  to  say 
what  is  slang  and  what  is  not,  I  do  not  know — but  the  phrase 
runs  this  way  :  "  Be  good  to  yourself."  It  is  not  an  exhorta- 
tion to  selfishness ;  men  don't  need  that.  It  means  respect 
yourself,  take  care  of  and  do  not  squander  yourself.  You  will 
find  that  if  you  are  not  good  to  yourself  no  one  else  will  be 
good  to  you.  You  owe  no  apology  to  anyone  for  being  here. 
You  have  as  good  a  natural  right  to  a  front  seat  as  any  boy 
or  girl  who  goes  to  the  World's  School. 

This  institution,  I  am  informed  by  the  President  and  mem- 
bers of  the  Faculty,  is  not  intended  for  the  exclusive  produc- 
tion of  Presidents  of  the  United  States,  nor  does  it  guarantee 
to  its  graduates  situations  in  the  United  States  Senate;  but  it 
is  well  enough  for  young  gentlemen  to  remember  that  genuine 
distinction  is  to  be  attained  in  the  line  of  agriculture  and  the 
mechanic  arts.  As  an  illustration  of  the  dignity  of  agricul- 
tural pursuits,  you  often  hear  the  quotation  that  "he  who 
makes  two  blades  of  grass  grow  where  one  grew  before,  is  a 
public  benefactor."  The  whole  paragraph,  which  may  be 
found  in  Gulliver's  Travels,  is  still  more  striking.  It  reads: 
"And  he  gave  it  for  his  opinion  that  whosoever  could  make 
two  ears  of  corn  or  two  blades  of  grass  to  grow  upon  a  spot  of 
ground  where  only  one  grew  before,  would  deserve  better  of 


180  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

mankind,  and  do  more  essential  service  to  his  country  than 
the  whole  race  of  politicians  put  together." 

You  see,  then,  that  the  raising  of  two  blades  of  grass  will 
make  you  of  more  value  than  the  whole  race  of  politicians; 
and  in  my  opinion,  if  you  raise  but  one  blade  the  result  will 
still  be  the  same.  But  indeed,  in  the  field  of  agricultural  dis- 
covery there  still  seems  to  be  boundless  room.  The  books  say 
that  neither  Indian  corn,  potatoes,  squashes,  carrots  nor  cab- 
bages were  known  in  England  until  after  the  Sixteenth  cen- 
tury. Who  knows  how  many  new  vegetables  are  yet  to  be 
invented  or  improved?  Fame  may  havs  something  in  store 
for  you  in  that  line.  Your  name  may  yet  be  carved  on  the 
perfect  watermelon  of  the  future.  Old  men  can  remember  the 
advent  of  nearly  every  improved  agricultural  implement  which 
we  now  consider  indispensable.  It  is  the  happy  combination 
of  farmer  and  mechanic  who  is  yet  to  achieve  triumphs  in  the 
field  of  agricultural  invention.  Then  there  is  the  great  voca- 
tion of  teaching  agriculture  and  the  mechanic  arts  in  schools 
established  for  that  purpose.  This  is  new  ground.  The  school 
established  in  Switzerland  by  Fellenburg,  counted  the  first  or 
among  the  first  agricultural  schools,  was  founded  in  1806,  less 
than  seventy  years  ago;  and  most  of  the  work  in  that  line  has 
been  done  since  1844,  and  still  the  surface  of  the  ground  has 
only  been  scratched.  To  those  who  have  a  genuine  literary 
talent,  a  readiness  in  the  use  of  written  words,  an  ability 'to 
tell  things  so  that  people  will  read  them,  and  combined  with 
this,  have  a  practical  knowledge  of  the  subject  of  agriculture, 
I  can  say  that  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  do  not  write  on 
agricultural  subjects,  there  is  much  to  be  done.  A  great  deal 


THE    WORLD  A   SCHOOL.  181 

is  written  on  agricultural  questions  which  is  regarded  by  a 
careless  and  hard-hearted  world  as  the  perfection  of  balder- 
dash, the  sublimated  quintessence  of  moonshine.  But  is  there 
not  some  one  to  be  for  this  country  and  this  time  what  Arthur 
Young  was  for  England  at  the  close  of  the  last  century?  A 
bold  and  bright  man  was  Arthur  Young.  His  account  of  a 
tour  in  France,  prior  to  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, is  quoted  by  every  historian  of  that  struggle  as  a  most 
faithful  picture  of  the  brutalized  and  degraded  condition  of 
the  oppressed  French  peasantry,  which  led  to  the  final  explo- 
sion. Said  Young  in  the  account  of  his  tour:  "The  fields  are 
scenes  of  pitiable  management,  as  the  houses  are  of  misery. 
To  see  so  many  millions  of  hands  that  would  be  industrious, 
all  idle  and  starving.  Oh,  if  I  were  legislator  of  France  for 
one  day,  I  would  make  these  great  lords  skip  again."  Thus 
wrote  Arthur  Young,  farmer,  reporter  of  the  Morning  Post, 
tourist,  political  writer,  and  correspondent  of  Washington. 
He  wrote  many  books,  among  them  a  work  on  Ireland  and 
its  agricultural  condition  and  resources.  The  material  for  a 
portion  of  this  work  was  collected  in  1776,  just  one  hundred 
years  ago,  and  is  still  quoted  by  the  latest  writers  on  Ireland. 
Young  wrote  not  only  what  he  knew  himself,  but  what  others 
found  out.  The  cattle-breeding  experiments  of  Robert  Bake- 
well,  who  was  not  himself  a  writer,  were  described  and  com- 
mended by  Young.  Who  of  the  graduates  of  this  institution 
will  be  our  Arthur  Young,  to  write  agricultural  books  to  be 
read  a  hundred  years  hence,  and  have  it  said  of  him,  "He  will 
be  illustrious  in  all  succeeding  days,  as  long  as  the  profit  of 


182  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

the  earth  is  for  all,  and  the  king  himself  is  served  by  the 
field"  ? 

To  those  who  propose  to  follow  the  mechanic  art?,  it  is  un- 
necessary to  say,  that  it  is  the  skillful  mechanic  rather  than 
the  soldier  who  now  goes  where  glory  waits  him.  This  is  the 
mechanic's  age.  He  is  the  reigning  monarch  now,  and  we  all 
take  off  our  hats  to  him.  He  is  the  Prospero  of  this  our 
island,  and  steam  is  the  monster  Caliban  that  does  his  bid- 
ding. I  doubt  if  there  is  a  man  before  me  who  would  not 
rather  wear  the  laurels  of  Capt.  Eads,  the  designer  of  that 
wonderful  bridge  at  St.  Louis,  than  to  be  President  of  the 
United  States. 

You  enter  the  World's  School,  then,  under  favorable  au- 
spices, and  it  remains  only  that  you  improve  your  oppor- 
tunities ;  and  let  me  say  that  you  cannot  always  tell  from 
appearances  who  is  capable  of  instructing  you.  The  teachers 
of  the  World's  School  are  not  always  in  uniform.  For  in- 
stance: your  orator  undertook  one  day  to  air  the  nautical 
knowledge  he  had  obtained  by  a  study  of  Mr.  Fennimore 
Cooper's  sailors,  who  are  only  equaled  in  naturalness  by  his 
Indians,  and  in  about  five  seconds  had  his  ignorance  set  in 
order  before  his  face  by  the  gentleman  he  was  kindly  endeav- 
oring to  instruct.  But  who  would  have  thought  that  the  quiet 
gentleman  in  a  frock-coat,  writing  in  an  office,  with  a  pencil 
over  his  ear,  had  really  followed  the  sea  for  years  t  Such, 
however,  happened  to  be  the  exact  situation.  You  will  find 
that  rough-looking  men  —  illiterate  men,  in  fact — are  often 
exceedingly  well  posted  on  some  one  or  two  things.  If  yon 
ignore  such  yon  will  lose  something.  And  this  you  will  dis- 


THE    WOULD  A   SCHOOL.  183 

cover:  that  men  and  women  with  naturally  good  minds,  but 
who,  from  ignorance  of  writing,  are  unable  to  keep  a  diary, 
journal,  or  memoranda  of  any  kind,  have  frequently  a  very 
tenacious  memory  of  matters  which  have  come  under  their 
personal  observation.  The  true  method  of  investigation  is 
that  pursued  by  the  newspaper  reporter,  who  forms  no  theory 
in  advance,  but,  on  his  arrival  at  the  scene  of  a  fire,  or  fight, 
takes  the  statements  of  all  within  reach,  without  regard  to 
"age,  sex,  or  previous  condition  of  servitude."  In  the  World's 
School,  unless  you  are  willing  to  accept  all  available  infor- 
mation, from  all  possible  sources,  you  will  never  be  a  good 
scholar. 

There  is  a  maxim  often  quoted  in  connection  with  educa- 
tion, viz.,  that  "half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread";  but  I 
may  be  allowed  to  remark  that  one  blade  of  a  pair  of  scissors 
is  precious  little  better  than  no  scissors  at  all;  and  so  it  is  not 
well  in  this  world  to  devote  a  year  of  precious  time  to  a  study 
which  cannot  be  mastered  in  twenty  years.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, phonography,  one  of  the  many  systems  of  short-hand. 
A  knowledge  of  this  art  —  by  which  I  mean  the  art  of  verbatim 
reporting  and  nothing  less  —  while  doubtless  a  good  thing  to 
have,  is  not  a  prime  necessity  to  one  man  or  woman  in  ten 
thousand.  The  mass  of  reporters  and  writers  for  the  press 
get  along  without,  and  many  of  the  best  reporters  who  have 
ever  lived  were  unacquainted  with  it.  Yet  how  many  thou- 
sands of  people  who  really  had  no  occasion  to  study  it  have 
wasted  time  and  money  in  the  attempted  acquisition.  How 
many  thousands,  deceived  by  the  ease  with  which  the  theory 
of  phonography  is  understood,  have  gone  far  enough  to  dis- 


184  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

cover  that  they  could  not  get  practice  enough  in  all  the  leisure 
hours  of  Methnsaleh  to  make  them  good  short-hand  reporters. 
A  pile  of  double-ruled  paper  as  large  as  this  room  could  be 
constructed  of  the  note-books  of  people  who  after  months  of 
practice  have  found  that  they  could  not  report  even  the  slow- 
est sermon,  and  on  trying  it  found  themselves  struggling  with 
the  pot-hooks  which  represent  "My  beloved  brethren  and  sis- 
ters" when  they  should  have  been  making  a  crooked  mark  for 
"Amen."  These  people  have  simply  been  trying  to  make  a 
century-plant  bloom  at  two  years  old,  that's  all.  Had  they 
been  wise  they  would  have  devoted  their  two  years  to  some- 
thing that  can  be  learned  reasonably  well  —  well  enough  to  be 
used,  in  two  years.  Newspaper  men,  who  really  may  be  sup- 
posed to  need  phonography,  as  I  have  said,  get  along  without 
it.  They  find  it  easier,  in  many  instances,  to  sit  comfortably 
while  the  entirely  original,  unpremeditated  and  impromptu 
discourse  is  being  delivered,  and  then,  approaching  the 
speaker  after  he  has  concluded,  and  hear  him  say,  "Why,  my 
dear  sir,  I  was  not  expecting  to  have  my  hasty  remarks  ap- 
pear in  print,  but  if  it  would  be  an  accommodation  to  you  I 
can  let  you  have  the  heads  of  my  address  —  just  a  synopsis, 
you  know."  Whereupon  he  proceeds  to  draw  from  his  right- 
hand  coat-tail  pocket  the  complete  manuscript. 

The  remarks  made  on  the  subject  of  phonography  apply 
also  to  ineffectual  or  insufficient  efforts  to  acquire  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  violin,  and  especially  the  flute.  In  regard  to  the 
latter  instrument,  not  only  self-interest  but  humanity  to 
the  neighbors  demands  that  yon  should  not  waste  your  time 
in  abortive  tootings.  If  you  feel  it  your  duty  to  retire  for 


THE   WOULD  A  SCHOOL.  185 

a  season  from  the  haunts  of  men,  and,  forsaking  everything 
else,  cleave  only  to  the  flute  until  you  become  its  master,  it 
is  well ;  but  do  not  under  any  other  circumstances  touch  that 
instrument. 

Having  warned  you  not  to  attempt  the  mastery  of  really 
desirable  accomplishments  unless  you  are  sure  that  you  have 
the  aptitude  and  the  leisure  for  their  perfect  acquirement,  let 
me  earnestly  entreat  you  not  to  commit  the  great  error  of 
wasting  golden  hours  in  the  discussion  of  matters  which  are 
of  no  vital  importance.  Beware  of  societies  for  the  diffusion 
of  useless  knowledge  ;  assemblages  of  people  who  know  noth- 
ing, to  discuss  matters  of  which  nobody  knows  anything. 
Remember  that  the  Almighty  is  the  only  being  who  is  omnis- 
cient, the  claims  of  various  learned  societies  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding.  There  are  some  things  you  will  never  know, 
and  it  is  a  good  plan  not  to  rack  your  brains  over  those  things. 
The  exact  age  of  this  world,  for  instance,  can  never  be  ascer- 
tained. Do  not  worry  your  mind  by  efforts  to  fix  the  precise 
hour  in  the  forenoon  at  which  the  process  of  creation  began. 
In  these  days  when  "science"  is  talked  about  by  gentlemen 
whose  knowledge  of  the  correct  spelling  of  the  word  is  a  recent 
acquirement,  I  know  it  is  dangerous  to  disparage  what  is  called 
"scientific  investigation."  To  speak  lightly  of  such,  exposes 
the  speaker  to  the  danger  of  being  called  "ignorant,"  by  peo- 
ple who  spell  it  with  two  g's  ;  but  still  I  will  risk  this  frightful 
calamity  by  expressing  the  conviction  that  years  devoted  to 
labor  which  results  at  last,  not  in  the  discovery  of  a  fact  in 
nature,  but  merely  in  the  elaboration  of  a  theory,  are  wasted 
years.  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  ? "  is,  after  all,  the  question. 


186  ,      KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

What  does  it  profit  a  man  to  handle  over  a  large  number  of 
skulls,  and  shout  with  rapture  when  he  finds  a  monkey's  skull 
which  resembles  his  own  ?  He  cannot  know,  after  all,  that 
that  particular  monkey  was  his  relative.  The  glow  of  family 
pride  which  comes  over  him  at  first,  is  soon  dampened  by  the 
dreary  reflection  that  there  may  be  a  mistake  somewhere ; 
that  the  depression  in  the  monkey's  forehead  which  gives  it  its 
startling  resemblance  to  his  own  may  be  exceptional,  may 
have  been  the  result  of  accident  in  youth,  a  blow  from  a  cocoa- 
nut  in  the  hands  of  an  irate  parent,  or  something  of  the  kind. 

"The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave,"  and  the  paths 
of  this  sort  of  "scientific  investigation"  lead  us  into  the 
mazes  of  painful  uncertainty.  Our  ancestral  gorilla  eludes 
our  grasp  like  the  air-drawn  dagger  of  Macbeth.  And  if  he 
did  not,  what  then  ?  Is  there  any  present  or  practical  good 
to  be  attained  by  dwelling  on  his  merits  or  demerits,  or  in 
tracing,  painfully,  the  line  which  leads  from  us  to  him  —  real- 
izing, perhaps,  that  of  late  years  the  family  has  degenerated  ? 

But  somebody,  not  a  scientist,  may  ask,  "Do  you  declaim 
against  all  investigation  of  the  mysteries  of  nature?"  Cer- 
tainly not.  Consider  the  grasshopper,  how  he  grows.  He  is 
a  mystery.  Whence  he  cometh  and  whither  he  goeth  we  can- 
not tell.  Find  out,  if  you  can,  why  a  miserable  insect  which 
a  child  can  crush  beneath  its  foot,  ravages  whole  states,  while 
man,  with  all  his  boasted  resources,  seems  powerless  to  resist 
him.  Mysteries  !  Secrets !  If  you  would  investigate  them, 
the  world  is  full  of  them.  The  forces  of  nature  —  electricity, 
and  the  rest  —  have  existed  from  the  beginning,  but  how  long 
has  man  known  of  their  power  ?  How  much  does  he  know 


THE   WORLD  A  SCHOOL.  187 

now  ?  The  lightning  flashed  before  the  blinded  eyes  of  Adam, 
but  how  long  since  the  electric  spark  became,  not  the  terror, 
but  the  friend  of  man  ?  Steam  curled  up  from  the  kettle  of 
Tubal  Cain,  but  how  long  since  man  knew  how  strong  were 
the  shoulders  of  the  prisoned  vapor  which  now  bears  so  many 
burdens  f  Charcoal  lay  in  the  ashes  of  the  first  fire  kindled 
by  man  on  the  earth;-  nitre  formed  on  the  walls  of  the  cave, 
and  sulphur  lurked  in  the  earth;  but  how  long  since  man 
knew  that  these  substances,  harmless  apart,  were,  linked  to- 
gether, a  black  conspirator  who,  without  warning,  can  tear  a 
city  or  a  mountain  to  fragments  ?  No  man  can  say  that 
further  investigation  on  these  lines  will  reveal  nothing.  How 
long  is  it  since  gunpowder,  supposed  to  be  the  most  powerful 
of  all  explosive  substances,  was  found  to  be  to  nitro-glycerine 
what  a  boy's  strength  is  to  a  man's  ?  Investigation  !  There 
is  room  for  enough  of  that  to  fill  the  next  thousand  years, 
during  which  the  question  of  our  primitive  gorilla-hood  can 
be  suffered  to  rest. 

In  the  World's  School  as  in  the  district  school,  a  great  hin- 
drance to  study  is  too  much  whispering,  too  much  noise,  too 
much  talk.  The  present  age  demands  and  admires  action,  not 
words.  Said  an  intelligent  gentleman,  speaking  the  other 
evening  of  the  British  House  of  Commons:  "A  great  orator  is 
a  great  nuisance  and  a  great  bore."  It  will,  I  think,  be  so  con- 
sidered in  this  country  some  day.  It  is  certainly  a  consum- 
mation devoutly  to  be  wished.  If  any  of  these  young  ladies 
or  gentlemen  have  a  habit  of  keeping  still  until  they  have 
something  to  say,  they  can  rest  easy  in  the  belief  that  the 
world  is  coming  round  to  their  fashion.  I  think  even  now  if 


188  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

Demosthenes  were  living  and  were  to  repeat  his  experiment 
of  the  pebbles,  he  would  meet  with  little  sympathy.  At  this 
time,  and  I  may  remark,  in  this  State,  where  we  are  so  little 
advanced  in  the  practice  of  agriculture  —  the  oldest  of  human 
vocations  —  that  the  failure  of  a  single  crop  reduces  us  to  the 
condition  of  Indians  when  the  buffalo  fails  to  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance, and  a  piteous  cry  for  "aid"  goes  up  from  one  end 
of  the  State  to  the  other  —  in  such  a  State  there  is  little  time 
for  speech-making.  The  world  needs,  nay,  more,  will  have 
men  of  action,  not  of  mere  words  either  spoken  or  printed. 
A  volume  of  speeches  is  not  a  very  enduring  monument,  gen- 
erally a  fading  and  perishable  one;  a  fine  bridge,  a  noble 
aqueduct,  a  row  of  tenement  houses,  built  by  generosity,  not 
avarice,  a  beautiful  farmhouse  —  such  are  the  monuments  men 
should  leave  behind  them.  It  is  the  impatience  of  the  world 
with  talk  that  leads  to  Carlyle's  "Hero  Worship,"  and  such 
grim  books  as  his  Cromwell  and  Frederick;  and  who  that 
reads  these  books  does  not  imbibe  a  feeling  of  respect  for 
men  of  action  rather  than  the  men  of  pamphlets,  speeches 
and  proclamations?  Who,  whatever  may  be  his  idea  of  the 
career,  as  a  whole,  of  the  first  Napoleon,  does  not,  in  reading 
that  last  chapter  save  one  in  Carlyle's  "French  Revolution," 
stand  an  admirer  of  that  young  artillery  officer,  Bonaparte  by 
name,  as  he  stands  amid  his  guns  at  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon of  that  October  day,  waiting  the  approach  of  that  bloody 
mob  of  Paris  who  succeeded  as  rulers  those  "great  lords" 
whom  Arthur  Young  hated?  They  are  moving  forty  thousand 
strong;  their  stray  shot  rattle  on  the  staircase  of  the  Tuilleries; 
they  are  very  near.  "Whereupon,  thou  bronze  artillery  offi- 


THE   WORLD  A   SCHOOL.  189 

cer?  Fire!"  say  the  bronze  lips.  Roar  and  roar  again  go  his 
great  guns,  and  "it  was  all  over  by  six,"  said  citizen  Bona- 
parte in  his  report.  The  mob  which  had  cut  off  the  heads  of 
many  speech-makers  had  met  at  last  a  man  of  action. 

And  yet,  what  is  called  a  "talent  for  affairs"  is  not  incon- 
sistent with  the  possession  of  a  kindly  spirit,  manifesting 
itself  outwardly  and  visibly  in  perfect  courtesy.  Some  of  the 
busiest  men  I  have  known  always  found  time  to  be  civil.  In 
the  World's  School  you  will  find  that  your  progress  and  happi- 
ness depend  much  upon  your  treatment  of  your  fellow-stu- 
dents. The  Nineteenth  is  a  good  century  for  firm  men;  it  is 
a  bad  one  for  bullies  —  even  of  the  pious  variety.  Lord  Ches- 
terfield was  never  wiser  than  when  he  exhorted  his  son  always 
to  be  the  friend,  but  never  the  bully  of  virtue.  This  you  may 
depend  upon:  that  you  may  lead  your  class,  but  you  will  never 
drive  it  —  except,  perhaps,  after  the  manner  of  the  Irishman's 
horse,  of  which  his  enthusiastic  owner  exclaimed,  "Bedad,  he's 
driving  everything  before  him!"  As  you  cannot  safely  domi- 
neer over  your  fellows,  so  you  may  be  sure  you  cannot  long 
deceive  them.  The  stolen  composition  will  be  found  in  your 
desk;  the  plagiarized  speech  will  be  detected.  Blinder  than 
the  blindest  bat  that  fluttered  in  dark  Egypt's  deepest  dark- 
ness are  those  who  put  not  their  trust  in  God  or  man,  but  in 
tricks.  Little  traps,  set  by  little  men,  are  daily  knocked  to 
pieces  beneath  the  very  noses  of  their  sagacious  contrivers, 
and  the  world's  derisive  laughter  rings  out  at  "strategy,  my 
boy"! 

This,  then,  in  your  intercourse  with  your  fellow-students  of 
this  world,  is  the  chief  end  of  life:  to  be  a  gentleman;  and 


190  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

this  includes  the  ladies,  for  lady  is  but  the  feminine  of  gentle- 
man. To  be  a  gentleman  you  have  the  world's  encourage- 
ment— nay  more,  you  have  an  angelic  warrant;  for  what  says 
Thackeray,  in  the  "End  of  the  Play": 

"A  gentleman,  or  old  or  young; 

(Bear  kindly  with  njy  humble  lays,) 
The  sacred  chorus  first  was  sung 

Upon  the  first  of  Christmas  days. 
The  shepherds  heard  it  overhead, 

The  joyful  angels  raised  it  then; 
Glory  to  Heaven  on  high,  it  said, 

And  peace  on  earth  to  gentle  men." 

But  I  must  not  keep  you  here  listening  to  words  which, 
after  all,  may  not  be  worth  your  remembrance,  and  which,  in 
the  hurly-burly  of  that  world,  which  soon,  very  soon  will  open 
up  before  the  youngest  here,  you  will  scarcely  find  time  to  re- 
member; and  yet  the  blessing  and  benediction  of  any  human 
being,  even  that  of  the  sightless  beggar  by  the  wayside,  is 
worth  the  having. 

Young  men,  young  women,  crowding  forward  from  the  by- 
ways into  the  broad  highway  of  life,  may  you  do  well  the 
work  that  is  waiting  for  your  hands,  realizing  the  obligation 
spoken  of  by  Lord  Bacon  :  "  I  hold  every  man  a  debtor  to  his 
profession  ;  from  the  which  as  men  of  course  do  seek  to  re- 
ceive countenance  and  profit,  so  ought  they  of  duty  to  en- 
deavor themselves  by  way  of  amends  to  be  a  help  and 
ornament  thereunto." 

May  your  lives  resemble  not  the  desert's  bitter  stream, 
which  mocks  the  cracked  and  blistered  lips  of  the  fainting, 
dying  traveler;  which  but  adds  horror  to  the  fiery  desert,  and 
sinks  at  last  into  the  burning  sands,  to  which  it  brought  no 


THE   WORLD  A  SCHOOL.  191 

verdure,  no  gladness  —  from  which  it  received  nothing  but 
poison  and  a  grave. 

May  the  course  of  your  lives  find  no  counterpart  in  the 
sluggish  course  of  the  dull  bayou,  a  fungus  among  streams, 
which  winds  and  doubles  and  winds  again  through  miles  of 
rank  vegetation,  which  curtain  its  dark  course,  and  shut  out 
from  its  sullen  waters  the  gladsome  light  of  day;  a  waveless, 
tideless  stream,  in  which  reptiles  of  hideous  shape  crawl  and 
glide  and  swim,  and  which  at  night  seems  to  lie  still  in  the 
darkness  and  listen  to  doleful  and  mysterious  voices.  May 
none  of  you  ever  live  isolated  from  your  kind,- like  those  lakes 
which  lurk  amid  dark,  once-volcanic  mountains,  with  no  visi- 
ble inlet  or  outlet;  deep,  self-contained,  solitary,  giving  back 
no  reflection  save  the  dim  images  of  scorched  and  barren 
rocks,  and  splintered  peaks;  lakes  on  which  nothing  lives  or 
floats,  which  hide  forever  in  their  dark  bosoms  everything 
cast  into  them. 

But  may  your  lives  be  like  the  river,  which  rises  amid  the 
pure  snows  of  the  bold  mountain;  which,  hurling  itself  over 
the  cliffs,  answers  back  the  wild,  free  eagle's  scream;  which 
forces  its  way  through  the  rocks  that  would  impede  it  in  its 
search  for  the  valley;  which  slakes,  as  it  goes,  the  thirst  of  the 
deer,  and  washes  the  roots  of  the  pine  tree  from  which  the 
flag  of  the  far-sailing  merchantman  is  yet  to  fly;  which  turns 
the  rude  wheel  of  the  mountain  mill,  and  whirls  in  its  eddies 
the  gathering  sawdust  as  it  speeds  from  under  the  whirring, 
glittering  teeth  of  steel  it  has  bidden  to  rend  the  logs  it  has 
brought  them.  It  grows  wider  and  deeper,  and  more  silent 
and  yet  stronger,  as  it  flows  between  smiling  farms  and  thrifty 


192  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

villages,  which  owe  their  existence  to  the  bounteous  river.  At 
night  it  sends  its  mist  over  all  the  valley  and  half-way  up  the 
hills  —  like  sweet  Charity,  who  silently  wraps  in  her  sheltering 
mantle  all  the  sons  of  men.  It  carries  on  its  bosom  all  float- 
ing craft  —  the  light  canoe,  the  slow-drifting  raft,  the  arrow- 
like  steamer.  In  time,  its  wavelets  give  back  at  night  in 
dancing  gleams,  the  thousand  lights  of  the  great  cotton  mills, 
and,  anon,  its  waters  part  before  the  prow  of  the  new-built 
ship  as  she  glides  down  the  ways  to  the  element  which  is 
henceforth  to  be  her  home.  Thus  goes  the  shining  river,  the 
ever-useful,  ever-blessed  river ;  best  friend  of  toiling  man  ; 
fairest  thing  from  the  creative  hand  of  God.  Thus  goes  the 
river,  to  mingle  at  last  forever  with  the  sun-lit  sea. 


BOOKS.  * 


~T~  IKE  many  another  who  has  "offered  his  services,"  I  find 
.J — *  that  I  have,  after  all,  no  particular  service  to  give. 
Anxious  to  do  something  to  show  my  interest  in  what  is  to  me 
a  most  interesting  occasion,  I  readily  promised,  and  thought 
there  would  be,  when  the  time  came,  no  lack  of  ideas  and 
words,  (though  these  are  not  always  associated;)  but  the  time 
has  come,  and  I  find  that  the  cares  and  labors  and  thoughts  of 
an  existence  of  drudgery  have  nearly  driven  all  I  thought  I 
should  say  out  of  my  mind.  . 

We  are  here  to  establish  a  memorial  to  dear  and  valued 
friends,  and  for  myself  I  may  say  that  the  memorial  could 
have  taken  no  shape  more  pleasing  than  that  of  a  collection 
of  books,  small  or  great.  Perhaps  from  an  inability  to  grasp 
great  things,  the  vast  memorials  which  men  have  erected  for 
themselves,  or  which  their  heirs  or  their  friends  or  admirers,  or 
even  their  countries,  have  erected  for  them,  have  failed  to  im- 
press my  mind  or  heart.  For  myself,  my  imagination  has 
been  the  rather  warmed  and  inspired  by  humbler  memorials 
designed  to  keep  alive  in  love  and  honor  a  name,  and  to  dimin- 
ish in  some  degree,  though  but  for  a  moment,  an  hour,  the 
sum  of  human  suffering,  the  weight  of  human  need.  While 

*An  address  delivered  at  the  dedication  of  the  Anderson  Memorial  Li- 
brary, of  Emporia  College,  June  5,  1888. 
12  (193) 


194  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

nearly  every  line  of  "Marmion,"  read  when  a  boy,  has  faded 
from  my  mind,  I  remember  the  inscription  above  the  wayside 
spring  where  they  laid  the  dying  chieftain  down  : 

"  Drink,  weary  pilgrim,  drink,  and  pray 
For  the  kind  soul  of  Sybil  Grey, 
Who  built  this  cross  and  well." 

To  me,  Sybil  Grey,  whose  memory  in  the  poem  is  kept 
alive  by  the  little  pool,  the  trickling  stream,  flowing  for  dying 
knight  of  high  degree  or  footsore  wayside  beggar,  a  comfort 
for  the  time,  has  been  all  these  years  as  real  a  person  as  John 
Howard.  Very  dear,  too,  are  those  worthies,  who,  dying  cen- 
turies ago,  left  not  churches,  convents,  public  edifices,  lofty 
halls  or  cloistered  colleges  to  preserve  the  recollection  of  their 
names  or  riches,  but  the  rather  certain  bequests  providing 
that  on  certain  days  in  the  year  so  many  poor  people,  whether 
worthy  or  unworthy  the  will  did  not  specify,  who  should  apply 
at  a  certain  place,  should  receive  so  many  loaves  of  bread,  so 
that  they  might  eat  and  be  filled  and  go  their  possibly  idle 
and  worthless  and  inconsequential  way  to  the  end  of  the 
world.  On  the  idea  of  one  of  these  bequests,  Dickens  wrote 
his  charming  stories  of  "The  Seven  Poor  Travelers,"  who, 
driven  about  by  the  storms  of  fortune,  found  for  one  night  a 
snug  harbor,  an  inn,  where,  after  supper  provided  as  it  were 
by  a  vanished  hand,  they  sat  by  the  fire  kindled  by  a  long- 
gone  testator,  and  relating  their  adventures.  This  seems,  to 
me  at  least,  real  and  unworldly  charity,  done  in  God's  name, 
without  hope  of  praise,  and  falling  like  his  rain  in  the  quiet 
night,  unthinking  of  the  just  or  the  unjust. 

Next  to  a  memorial  taking  the  form  of  an  alleviation  of 
physical  human  suffering,  sheltering  the  houseless,  or  feeding 


BOOKS.  195 

the  hungry,  there  can  be  no  finer  or  better  way  of  keeping 
green  in  life  and  afterward  the  name  and  memory  of  the 
good,  than  by  collecting  for  all  time  and  future  generations 
good  books,  that  he  who  comes  may  read;  and  in  this  case  it 
is  most  appropriate,  as  this  library  is  to  bear  the  name  of  a 
family  that  has  known  in  all  its  recorded  generations  the  use 
and  value  and  solace  of  reading.  One  of  the  most  widely-read 
of  Kansas  scholars  and  gentlemen  once  gave  me  a  yellow  and 
time-stained  pamphlet  —  it  was  the  printed  funeral  sermon  of 
his  great-grandmother;  and  in  it  the  clergyman  said  of  this 
elect  lady  of  a  day  when  books  were  scarce  and  women  were 
not  taught  as  they  are  now,  that  she  never  went  visiting  with- 
out taking  with  her  a  book  that  she  might  read  in  her  leisure 
moments,  to  herself  or  her  entertainers.  And  a  family  which 
has  produced  four  generations  in  succession  of  Presbyterian 
clergymen  —  men  of  education,  of  books  —  could  not  be  better 
commemorated.  Doubtless  the  brave  North  Carolina  Whig 
grandmother  of  Col.  Anderson,  who  hid  her  little  store  of 
corn-meal  beneath  her  hearthstone  to  keep  it  from  Tarleton's 
British  troopers,  read  the  Mecklenburg  Declaration  when  it 
was  published,  and  would  highly  approve  this  idea  of  ours  of 
a  library  bearing  the  name  of  her  husband,  and  of  her  sons. 
And  the  mention  of  families  reminds  me,  that  in  this  and 
every  American  library  there  should  be  collected  books  on 
genealogy,  family  histories,  and  family  trees  —  even  crests 
and  arms,  if  you  please;  books  sometimes  sneered  at  as  un- 
republican  and  un-American,  and  yet  having  a  respectable 
precedent,  since  it  was  Moses  himself  who  recorded  the  gen- 
ealogy of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  a  great  many  more. 


196  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

And  now  that  we  have  come  to  the  library,  the  actual  me- 
morial library,  I  should  like  to  say,  that  first  of  all  let  us  have 
old  books,  both  as  commemorating  an  old  family  with  the 
qualities  of  the  old  time,  and  as  in  themselves  most  valuable. 
All  must  remember  the  words  of  Goldsmith,  really  much  older 
than  he:  "I  love  everything  that's  old  —  old  friends,  old  times, 
old  manners,  old  books,  old  wine."  And  in  old  books  you 
have  the  bright  or  serious  companionship  of  "old  friends," 
the  impress  of  "old  manners,"  the  restoration  of  all  that  was 
best  in  the  "old  times,"  and  the  cheer,  subtle  and  potent,  of 
"  old  wine."  Said  a  gentleman  whose  name  if  I  should  mention 
it  would  be  recognized  as  that  of  one  endowed  with  nearly  every 
sort  of  modern  culture:  "I  try,  sometimes,  to  read  a  modern 
novel,  but  I  cannot  keep  my  mind  on  it;  I  lay  it  down,  and 
read  '  Waverley '  or  '  Ivanhoe '  f or  the  seventieth  or  eightieth 
time." 

This  is  not  saying  that  there  are  no  good  new  books  in  the 
world;  but  let  us  not  forget  to  gather  the  books,  the  common 
books,  that  the  world  has  pronounced  its  judgment  upon,  and 
set  its  seal  upon.  The  writer  of  that  somewhat  melancholy 
melody,  "I  Cannot  Sing  the  Old  Songs,"  gives  us  as  a  reason, 
"  for  foolish  tears  would  flow."  That  is  the  very  reason  that 
you  should  hold  to  the  old  books,  the  books  that  for  centuries, 
it  may  be,  have  caused  the  eyes  to  brighten  or  to  fill;  that 
have  stirred  the  heart  and  quickened  the  pulses  and  informed 
the  spirit.  Keep  them.  Let  no  friend  withhold  books  because 
they  are  old;  because  he  or  she  fancies  that  everybody  has 
read  them.  One  generation  after  another  rises  to  call  the 
good  old  books  blessed.  They  are  as  inexhaustible  as  the 


BOOKS.  197 

glories  of  the  dawn,  the  blessings  of  the  rain.  Neither  is  it 
necessary  to  stand  on  the  appearance  of  the  covers.  The  first 
lesson  to  be  learned  about  books  is,  that  it  is  not  the  outside 
but  the  inside  that  counts. 

Then  we  should  gather,  I  think,  what  may  be  called 
"home  "  books  ;  books  about  America,  about  the  United  States 
of  America,  about  Kansas,  the  heart  of  America ;  books  writ- 
ten by  Americans  about  America,  about  Kansas.  Reading, 
like  charity,  may  well  begin  at  home.  This  because  there  is 
so  much  to  read  and  because  we  have  need  of  that  sentiment 
in  regard  to  our  country  which  may  be  called  "loving  her  very 
earth,"  and  to  that  end  those  books  are  most  valuable,  like 
Thoreau's,  which  teach  us  of  the  ground,  the  trees,  the  waters, 
the  winds  that  blow  over  what  we  call  our  native  land,  the 
waves  that  break  upon  its  shores.  Gather  such  books  here 
that  there  may  grow  in  young  hearts  that  passionate  attach- 
ment to  our  home  and  country,  one's  own  visible  and  actual 
country,  that  wells  from  the  heart  of  the  Ancient  Mariner  : 

"Oh,  dream  of  joy!    Is  this  indeed 

The  lighthouse  top  I  see? 
Is  this  the  hill,  is  this  the  kirk, 
Is  this  mine  own  countree?" 

It  is  designed,  it  may  be  said,  to  make  this  library,  not 
only  a  memorial  to  friends  and  benefactors  of  this  institution, 
but  a  means  of  instruction  to  students  who  may  gather  here ; 
but  while  this  is  true,  it  is  to  hoped  that  mere  text-books  will 
form  the  least  of  the  collection.  It  is  not  as  taskmasters  that 
books  are  wanted  here ;  but  as  a  comfort,  a  solace  and  a  help. 
It  happens  to  all  of  us,  that  experience  which  forms  the  open- 
ing sentence  of  one  of  the  most  famous  of  books:  "As  I 


198  '  KANSAS  MISCELLANIES. 

wandered  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,"  says  John 
Bunyan,  "  I  lighted  upon  a  certain  place  where  was  a  den." 
We  all  in  journeying  through  this  wilderness,  this  actual  great 
American  desert  of  a  world,  come  upon  Bunyan's  "den,"  and 
are  reminded  of  what  Coleridge  said  of  Edmund  Burke:  "He 
lived  in  a  world  like  Noah's  ark,  where  there  were  a  few  men 
and  a  great  many  beasts."  The  books  which  stand  us  in 
hand,  then,  are  books  of  gold,  but  they  are  great  in  their  vari- 
ety ;  they  are  books  that  appeal  to  the  heart,  the  sensibilities, 
the  spirit,  rather  than  cold  reason.  What  some  people  call 
"verses,"  and  "light  reading,"  have,  before  now,  living  in  the 
memory,  kept  the  brain  from  withering  and  the  heart  from 
breaking.  May  all  those  books  which  have,  in  other  ages  and 
our  age,  from  the  Meditations  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  back- 
ward and  forward,  strengthening  the  soul,  be  found  here  ;  and 
may,  along  with  these,  every  book  that  has  stirred  the  heart  to 
innocent  joy  be  found  here ;  and  may  all  the  books  that  have 
told  the  story  of  bravery  by  land  or  sea,  be  found  here. 

Of  bad  books,  so  much  talked  of,  I  do  not  have  much  fear. 
Wicked  action  is  the  result  of  ignorance  which  cannot  write 
books,  or  of  sudden  and  distorted  impulse  that  does  not  take 
the  time.  The  companionship  with  oneself,  the  deliberation, 
the  sober  second  thought  necessary  to  the  composition  of  a 
book,  refines,  so  to  speak,  the  coarseness  of  wickedness. 
Doubtless  many  books  have  been  written  that  did  no  good; 
few,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  that  have  done  much  harm  by 
their  degradation  of  the  mind  or  blinding  of  the  conscience. 
Even  in  this  fortress  of  orthodoxy,  there  need  be  no  fear  that 
books  will  pass  the  guard-line  that  will  do  much  in  themselves 


BOOKS.  199 

to  shake  belief.  Most  authors  are  men  of  such  thoughtfulness 
that,  whatever  their  theories,  they  yield  the  main  and  essen- 
tial question,  as  in  the  well-known  case  of  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury,  who  having  finished  his  great  work  to  the  effect 
that  there  is  no  revelation,  knelt  down  in  his  chamber  —  it  be- 
ing, as  he  says,  a  fine  day  in  summer,  the  sun  shining  clear 
and  no  wind  stirring  —  and  so,  taking  his  book  in  his  hands, 
besought  a  revelation,  which  he  further  says,  came  in  the 
shape  of  "a  loud  but  gentle  noise,  forth  from  the  heavens." 

And  so,  friends,  it  seems  that  there  can  be  no  better  memo- 
rial gathered  of  lives  spent  in  goodness  and  honor;  of  fifty 
years  of  wedded  happiness;  of  an  ancient  and  patriotic  Amer- 
ican family;  a  memorial  to  remain  such  while  this  school  en- 
dures, than  these  books — not  forgetting  to  place  among  them 
some  storied  copy,  like  the  Bible  of  Wesley  they  have  been 
reading  at  the  great  conference  in  New  York,  of  that  volume, 
which,  whether  from  its  age,  its  circulation,  its  influence,  the 
wealth  of  learning  drawn  to  its  exposition  and  defense,  or  the 
broad  and  deep  mark  it  has  made  on  the  literature  of  the  world, 
may  be  called  the  Book  of  Books,  which  in  the  soldier's  knap- 
sack or  beneath  the  sailor's  swaying  pillow,  goes  around  and 
around  the  world,  speaking  to  men  and  women  and  little  chil- 
dren of  the  "Book  of  Life." 


. 


